Distrusted
by sophie-the-duchess
Summary: When her sister's ex-fiance comes to Elsa to try to weasel his way out of the charges against him, she finds herself willingly falling into his trap– and his bed. (Sequel to Disrupted, modern AU, very kinky Helsa!)
1. Chapter 1

_Never was a leader_

 _Never had a thing for fairytales_

 _Not really a believer_

 _Small voice in the quiet_

 _Guess I never dared to know myself_

 _Can my heart beat quiet?_

 _Hailee Steinfeld, "Capital Letters"_

–

It was nearly five o'clock in the afternoon on a particularly unassuming, unsullied Friday in early February when the last person Elsa ever wanted to see stepped into her office.

Since becoming the official CEO of Arendelle Publishing the previous year, the elder heiress's days had become filled with lawyers and board meetings, contracts and buyouts, budgets and accounts, mergers and acquisitions. When she wasn't on a call or in a conference, there seemed to be an endless stream of people carrying paperwork coming and going from her desk at all hours of the day. And of course, there was the the occasional required appearance at a charity ball here or industry gala there, to rub elbows with the upper crust and placate the company's investors.

Well, she didn't _literally_ rub elbows with anyone. Elsa shuddered at the thought and held her gloved hands together in front of herself anxiously; even the mere concept of touching or being touched by another human being made her feel physically ill. Except for her younger sister, Anna, who worked in Arendelle Publishing's editing department, Elsa avoided all physical contact with people and most objects.

Anna was the only human on the planet whom Elsa had allowed to touch her in any way, shape, or form since their parents died when they were only teenagers.

So, when it was finally five o'clock, and the floor quieted– as one by one Arendelle's employees packed up and scooted out the door to begin the weekend– Elsa let out the breath that she felt as though she had been holding in forever.

Smoothing out the front of her long-sleeved teal dress, Elsa took a moment to collect herself, gazing out of the floor-to-ceiling windows of her office suite at the frozen, sunset-drenched city below. A ferocious winter storm had blown through the previous week, burying Manhattan in ice and snow, but a recent warm spell had melted large pockets of it. The higher temperatures left sparsely-placed tufts of cottony white around the landscape, but still the streets were gritty and gray with slush.

After a few minutes, she turned back towards her desk and glanced at the calendar atop it one last time, committing her weekend schedule even further to memory; she had already memorized it at least six or seven times since lunch. She had brunch scheduled with her sister tomorrow morning, and a thirty-page contract to read over and make a decision on by Monday, but other than that her weekend was void of any real social plans, as per usual.

But that suited Elsa just fine. She preferred to be alone.

It was then, when her eyes flicked down the page, that her focus landed on the date marked in red.

It was a little over a month to go until she had to testify against her sister's ex-fiance in court.

She had never liked her sister's ex-fiance during the time that they had been dating, but it was easy for Elsa could see what naive Anna had seen in him; he was incredibly charming, and disarmingly handsome, but in that off-putting sort of way that sucked the air from the room. Although Elsa was considered a rare beauty herself (she personally didn't see it), with her naturally pale hair and porcelain skin, Hans's good looks were downright intimidating. It was enough to make one feel inferior simply by experiencing the misfortune of being in his presence– which was perhaps one of the many, _many_ reasons why Elsa had never taken a liking to him. In fact, she had refused to even make an attempt to know him for the most part.

And those eyes. Those intense, piercing green eyes. She'd have to face those eyes again. The very thought of confronting the man who crushed her sister, ruined her reputation, and tried to dismantle her father's legacy from beneath her own nose shook Elsa to her core, but she pressed her fingertips to her temples and pressed lightly, focusing on her breathing, until the fear passed.

She had never fully trusted him, and it was a blow to find out that she had been right about guarding herself when it had been discovered that he had been scamming her younger sister all along, feigning his love for her to steal Arendelle Publishing's company secrets to sell to their competitors as well as Anna's own money, which included the inheritance she received from their deceased parents' estate.

Elsa began to feel sick again just thinking about it. They very thought of Hans's betrayal was enough to make her blood boil; he was as scummy as they came.

That whole fiasco had gone down over a year ago, and the charges against him were finally moving forward. Although Arendelle's lawyers had been hard at work for the past year, putting together a bulletproof case against Hans Westergaard for industrial espionage and conspiracy, the final word would come down to Elsa herself; as CEO of Arendelle Publishing and Hans's official victim, it was her testimony that would ultimately seal his fate.

 _Stop it,_ Elsa scolded herself. _Stop thinking about it._

But that was how she was; Elsa couldn't cope and so she fixated on things, in ways that were unhealthy and obsessive. Like the way she organized her desk, or her fear of germs, or her need to isolate herself whenever possible.

Throwing on her double-breasted winter coat and snatching her purse from the hook behind her desk, Elsa began to lock up the drawers of her desk when she heard the unmistakable _swish_ of the heavy cherrywood door to her office being pushed open.

She could feel the change in the air of the room before she even looked up.

A footstep.

 _Who could possibly be here to see me this late on a Friday?_

Another footstep.

They were coming into the room.

Elsa glanced up to address her surprise visitor, and felt her blood freeze in her veins immediately upon recognizing the russet-haired man who stared back at her.

She had inexplicably found herself face to face with those green irises which could belong to none other than Hans, her baby sister's ex-fiance and the man who had tried to sabotage her life and everything she knew.

–

 **A/N: Hi! I've been toying with the idea of this sequel to Disrupted pretty much since I wrote Disrupted, but didn't really have the inspiration until recently. I had to fudge the timing of the end/epilogue of Disrupted to fit this story (so now it's one year later instead of two) but other than that everything should fit. Thanks y'all and I hope you enjoy!**


	2. Chapter 2

_Life's too short to even care at all, whoa oh_

 _I'm losing my mind, losing my mind_

 _Losing control_

 _Young the Giant, "Cough Syrup"_

–

 _Earlier that week_

"But you _promised!_ "

Heeled boots sounded madly on the floor behind Elsa, their erratic clicks struggling to keep up with the pale, silver-haired business woman as she marched away from her younger sister, carried by her own designer pumps. They passed rows of cubicles on either side as they crossed the office floor.

"I _didn't_ promise, I said I'd _think_ about it," Elsa corrected from over her shoulder. "So, I've thought about it, and the answer is no."

"But I've already buttered him up for you!" her sister whined.

"I didn't ask you to do that."

"No, but you didn't _have_ to ask." Anna groaned. "You need to do this. It's just a date!"

"It's just really not a good week," the older sister huffed at last as she entered her office and rounded the corner of her desk, exasperated. "And I just don't think _dating_ is in the cards for me."

Then, as an afterthought: "If it ever was."

Elsa began to flip through a stack of papers on her desk, ignoring the hissing redhead who had followed her in when she stomped up to her desk with her fists clenched.

"Just _one_ date!" Anna put on her best pout, her freckled cheeks scrunching and lower lip jutting forward. " _Pleeeaaaase_."

Elsa sighed and paused her search, bringing a hand up to hold the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger; she was wearing her cobalt blue gloves today, the suede soft against her skin even as she squeezed the sliver of bone between her closed eyelids. After a moment of collecting herself, she opened her eyes, flicking them towards her sister, and spoke.

"Just _one_ date?"

Anna's face lit up with her victory. "Dinner and a movie."

"No dinner."

"Drinks, then."

Elsa rolled her eyes. "I don't drink."

"You don't have to!"

Giddy with excitement, Anna bounced up to her sister and covered her own mouth with her hands, evidently to keep from screaming. Her turquoise blue eyes– eyes that matched Elsa's own– went wide, and her body vibrated with barely-restrained energy. Elsa wondered vaguely if that kind of stress was healthy for the baby growing inside of her.

Although Anna was only seven months pregnant, she already appeared ready to burst, her weighty belly looking out of place on her petite frame, as though she were hiding a watermelon beneath her skin-tight periwinkle sweater dress and not a baby bump.

After everything that had happened and the falling out with Hans, Anna had fallen irrevocably and irreparably head-over-heels for Kristoff Bjorgman, the soft-spoken mail carrier for the high-rise building that Arendelle Publishing's offices were situated in. As luck would have it (or maybe fate), he had fallen for the feisty redhead as well, and they dated for a year before getting married the previous summer. Anna became pregnant not long after.

Elsa was happy for them; if anyone deserved to find true love, it was definitely the younger Arendelle heiress.

As for Elsa herself, she knew that it was too late for love. She would be content to spend her days unmarried, comfortable keeping the company of the family that Kristoff and Anna were rapidly making.

But a baby was going to be a whole other fountain of fluids and bodily functions that Elsa wasn't prepared to deal with as an aunt, and so she tried not to think about it too often; she'd deal with vomit and diapers and spit up as best as she could once the baby actually arrived.

For now, the mom-to-be was cooing happily, twirling about Elsa's office floor as though she had just won the gold medal for ice dancing and hadn't simply bullied her older sister into going on a date.

A real, actual date. With another person.

Her _first_ date _ever_.

 _Oh no. What have I agreed to?_

–

Despite Elsa's insistence on her stipulations, dinner somehow made its way into the plans. She was instructed by Anna to meet her date at a restaurant not far from her own townhouse, close enough to walk.

Upon reaching be establishment she could tell that it was an upscale Italian place, one of those "modern" New Age joints with a single foreign-sounding name that clueless foodies loved to rave about on their blogs for their "innovative and inventive" small plates; to Elsa, such eateries were a dime a dozen. Sighing, she resigned herself to her fate and stepped inside the door.

She was greeted by the _maître d'_ himself, who introduced himself with a bow before leading Elsa to her table, where a sandy-haired man of average build, height, and attractiveness was already seated. The _maître d'_ offered to take her coat, but she politely refused, opting to sit with it still on; if it caught him off guard, he didn't show it, and– ever the professional host– he bid the pair farewell before disappearing from their sight.

When Elsa was finally seated and dared to meet her date's hazel eyes, he was all smiles, but she knew that he was already judging her. She didn't blame him; if her date had shown up to the dinner table wearing a black winter coat and green leather gloves without taking them off, she'd have made some judgements as well.

"You must be Miss Elsa Arendelle," he started smoothly, holding out a hand to her. Elsa immediately focused on the minuscule line of dirt beneath one of his cut fingernails.

"I'm sorry, I don't… the gloves." She held her hands up to emphasize her point. It was no secret within the company that the young CEO was a germaphobe, but she still didn't know how to handle these situations whenever they came up.

The man nodded his head once in understanding, retracting his hand, but Elsa could see the hint of annoyance that flashed across his irises. "Of course."

After clearing his throat and running a hand over his slicked-back hair, he spoke again.

"My name is Erik." He flashed her a toothy grin; his teeth were surprisingly straight and pearly white.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Elsa started awkwardly; it took all of her effort to not fiddle with her fingers. She crossed them together in her lap and held them there. "So, um, how do you know my sister?"

"I worked with Anna on that holiday piece last year."

"Oh, yes, she told me a bit about that," Elsa replied, not sure of what else to say. She was saved from needing to say anything else by the waitress that arrived to place their water glasses and a dish of freshly cut lemon wedges on the table.

"Something to drink?" the girl asked in heavily accented English.

"I'll have a scotch on the rocks," Erik responded. His voice was cool, but hoarse.

 _He must smoke cigarettes._

"And for you, ma'am?"

Elsa shook her head demurely. "Nothing for me, thank you."

The waitress nodded and left. Erik quirked an eyebrow at his date, but lowered it before he thought Elsa would notice.

She noticed.

 _Well, he already knows I'm weird,_ she thought. _Might as well go all the way._

Reaching into her breast pocket, Elsa removed a silk handkerchief. Before her date could ask what she was doing, she ran the cloth along the rim of the water glass that had been set before her, polishing it and removing any filth that might have clung there. She tried not to think about the debris that had probably been left behind by the dishwasher and was now floating around in her drink, too tiny to be seen by the naked eye.

Mustering her courage, she raised the glass to her lips and took a tentative sip, forcing any intrusive thoughts of outside contaminants to the back of her mind. When she set her glass back on the table, Erik was watching her with barely-restrained intrigue.

"So, uh, Elsa. How old are you?"

 _Isn't it a bit rude to ask a woman her age?_ Elsa wanted to snap. _Especially on the first date?_

She wouldn't know.

Swallowing thickly, the young woman answered as cordially as she could manage: "Twenty-seven."

"Wow," Erik murmured in awe, impressed. "Only twenty-seven years old and already the CEO of a Fortune 500 company. That's amazing."

"Well, it was my father's company," Elsa started to explain, but stopped herself; she was playing down her accomplishments as usual. Confidence was something that she struggled with, even when her achievements were truly her own.

"I'm sure there was more to it than that to get to where you are."

It was at that moment that the unthinkable happened; he reached across, placing his palm atop her own gloved hand in what he must have meant to be interpreted as a friendly or flirtatious gesture, but Elsa's reaction was automatic. She snatched her hand back, as though he had stabbed her, and clutched the offended appendage to her breast, her doe eyes widening to the size of dinner plates in fright.

" _No!_ " she shrieked. It was loud enough that the entire restaurant quieted, and Elsa felt the white-hot pain of dozens of curious faces focused solely on her.

She felt the stares and she heard the whispers and then suddenly she saw her parents, and she saw their coffins, and she wanted nothing more than for a black hole to rip open in the middle of the dining room and swallow her whole.

After a moment, the din of conversation and tinkling silverware around them returned to a normal volume, and it was only then that Elsa realized that she was breathing as heavily as someone who had just run a marathon.

 _I should have known something like this would happen._

"Take me home," Elsa demanded between breaths, avoiding her date's gaze. "Take me home now. Please."

"What about the movie?"

Elsa didn't respond.

Bewildered, Erik flagged down a passing waiter for the tab; although he spoke as politely as he could, considering the circumstances, Elsa could still detect the irritability in his voice.

The silent walk back to Elsa's townhome felt like the longest walk of her life, bested only by the walk down the hospital hallway after receiving the news that her parents' bodies had been found. She had only been seventeen at the time, too young to bury her parents, but there they had been and buried them she had done.

Upon, reaching her door, Elsa dreaded facing her date to say goodbye, but she knew that she had to.

"Thank you for… everything," she choked out quietly, although in the end he had only ended up paying for his one drink. "I'm sorry for wasting your evening."

"Well, I can't exactly say that I had a good time," Erik said sourly. "But before I go… how about a kiss?"

Elsa nearly choked on her own tongue, appalled that he would even request such a thing of her. A noise escaped her that was between a squeak and a gasp.

"Absolutely not."

Erik narrowed his eyes. "I think you pretty much owe me."

"Excuse me?"

Fear began to course through Elsa's veins, afraid that he would force her or turn violent, but he only scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief.

"You know, I heard the rumors about the 'Ice Queen of Arendelle,' but I tried to not believe them," Erik snarled cruelly. "I thought, 'There's no way a woman as gorgeous and successful as her could be so _cold_.'"

He scoffed again. "Apparently, I was wrong. You're as much of a freak as they say. Maybe even _worse_."

Elsa felt her face heat to an unfathomable temperature. She wanted to disappear. She wanted to scream. Her hand itched at her side to do something– to slap him or worse.

But she stayed rigidly still. Just as she always did; dealing with confrontation wasn't her forte. She always simply froze up.

After all, he was right about her. They all were.

When it became obvious to him that she wouldn't say anything more, Erik cursed to himself and spun on his heel, shaking his head as he made his way down the walk.

Upon reaching the street, however, he turned to face Elsa once more.

"Oh, and don't you worry about firing me, _Your Highness_ ," he taunted as he backpedaled down the sidewalk, pulling at the lapels of his tan sport coat. "My brother and I have already accepted positions at _Weselton!_ "

He was trying to get in the last word– one last jab at the woman who had spoiled his evening, publicly made a fool out of him and threatened his masculinity.

Just like back at the restaurant, Elsa couldn't blame him for his reactions to her bizarre behavior. It was her fault.

Although she wanted to slam the door as hard as she could, she lacked the conviction, shutting it softly behind her with a _click_ and leaning her back against it, allowing the darkness of her desolate townhouse to fully envelope her.

He was right. She _was_ cold.

And a freak.

Most young women in Elsa's predicament would probably feel the urge to cry, or at least be embarrassed or somewhat ashamed, but she just felt what she always felt: nothing. Nothing at all, except for regret for time wasted.

It brought her a small comfort.


	3. Chapter 3

_Tied to a sallow heart_

 _Why does he want to bring me where he goes?_

 _Oh, and to find out the reasons why_

 _It's enough to make you wanna try_

 _For one last night_

 _Vaults, "One Last Night"_

–

The remainder of the week passed in a blur. Elsa tried her damnedest to push the memory of her disastrous date with Erik to the deepest recesses of her brain, but still his words echoed through her mind, taunting her.

It was one thing to _know_ that she was cold, but it was another thing altogether to hear another person actually confirm it out loud.

That was why, when Friday finally came, Elsa heaved a sigh of relief that could move mountains.

 _It's almost the weekend. Two whole days of nothing to do but keep to myself,_ she thought. _I just have to get through today._

A knock at her office door startled Elsa from the online article she was reading. She looked up to see Gerda, her assistant, enter. She was a reliable, motherly woman, and short, with mousy brown hair that was graying at the edges. She had been with the company since before Elsa was even born; she had even been assistant to Elsa's own father back when he was the CEO.

"Miss Elsa, your sister is on line one."

"Thank you, Gerda," Elsa said with a smile.

Giving her boss a smile in return, Gerda bowed out politely. Cautiously, Elsa picked up her phone, wondering what could possibly be so important that Anna was awake and calling her before noon.

She held the earpiece up to her ear, careful to not touch it to her skin.

"Hello?"

" _Elsa,_ " came Anna's breathless voice on the other end of the line, groggy with sleep. She must have only recently woken up.

"You're up early," Elsa joked. It was partly true; her younger sister was usually still asleep at eleven o'clock in the morning.

" _Ha ha ha,_ " Anna replied with mock laughter. " _Very funny._ "

"It's true."

" _Listen, I totally forgot about my baby shower."_ She sounded exhausted _. "I haven't even started planning it! I guess I've been so busy with work that it just slipped my mind._ "

Elsa had to hold back a snort. "You're saying you've been so busy planning other people's events that you forgot to plan your own?"

" _Pregnancy brain, I guess,_ " Anna sighed. There was a rustling on the other end of the line that Elsa interpreted as her younger sister shuffling into a more comfortable position; she could only imagine the toll that having another life growing inside of her and kicking her organs around could have on her body.

" _Anyway, I need your help, and I_ know _you're not busy. Can you meet me for brunch tomorrow?_ "

How could Elsa possibly say no?

Sighing, the blonde woman reached for a pen with her free hand and jotted down the time and location on her desktop calendar as Anna gave her the details. After a quick exchange of "Love you" and "See you tomorrow," Elsa set the phone back in its cradle.

 _So much for a weekend of keeping to myself,_ she thought, trying not to be too bitter about it. She loved her sister, after all; she could spare an hour for brunch.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully, until the cubicles outside her office finally quieted at a quarter to five. Gerda popped her head in to bid Elsa farewell before scooting out herself, leaving Elsa alone on the floor.

She set about locking her office and gathering her things to leave, pulling on her winter coat to prepare for the blustery evening outside, when the door to her office _swished_ open and Elsa found herself looking directly into the eyes of her sister's ex-fiance.

He strolled into her office, unabashed, as sure of himself as if he owned the place and everything in it; all Elsa could do was stare.

 _I must be dreaming. This isn't happening right now._

"Elsa, Elsa, _Elsa_." His smooth voice cut through the air like a knife and he threw his arms up on either side of himself, palms facing the ceiling, in a gesture of greeting, as though to say, " _Here I am. Deal with it._ "

The russet-colored hair that was cropped on the sides but long on top. The pointed, regal nose and high cheekbones. The thin lips.

And those piercing green eyes.

The corner of his mouth curled upward in a sickly sweet smile. "Long time no see."

"Hans." Her voice barely cracked above a whisper and Elsa froze; she felt as though she couldn't even suck in a breath. "How… how did you get in here?"

Hans put on an innocent pout. "There was no one at the security desk downstairs. And all of the elevators are unlocked for the evening cleaning crew. Walking in here was a piece of cake."

He shrugged and looked around the room, shoving his hands in his pockets, trying his best to appear nonchalant and unthreatening.

"Actually, you may want to follow up with building management on that. It seems that this building is _very_ lax on their security procedures," he teased with a _tsk_.

In a flash, Elsa reached for the phone on her desk to call for security, but Hans was faster; he crossed the room and snatched her lightly by the wrist before she could grab the handset, and wagged the pointer finger of his free hand in front of her in warning.

"Don't do that."

Elsa swallowed with a gulp. It took the gears in her brain much longer than normal to realize that Hans was _touching_ her– skin on skin– his masculine fingers coiling around the whiteness in the break between the sleeve of her coat and her gloves– and there was nothing that she could do about it.

She paused, waiting for the panic to flood over her at such intimate physical contact, but none came. Maybe it was the adrenaline coursing through her veins, or the fact that her fight-or-flight mode had been initiated, but Hans's touch on her bare skin didn't scorch her the way she expected it would. In her lucid state, she noticed that his fingernails were impeccably manicured as they dug lightly into her flesh, creating little crescent moons.

Hans seemed to recognize their predicament after Elsa did, and he watched the curious emotions play across the young woman's face for a moment before releasing her from his grip. Immediately, Elsa brought her gloved hands to her chest and held them there, protecting them against her collarbone.

"What do you want? Why are you here?" Elsa hissed at him. "Are you here to hurt me? Or to _kill_ me?"

Hans blinked, visibly taken aback by her accusation. "What? _No,_ no– I– I just want to talk. I have a little… _proposition_ for you."

"This is about what you did, isn't it? Ha, of course it is." Elsa shook her head in defiance. "If you think I'm going to let you off easy, you're wrong–"

"Hear me out, Princess," Hans interrupted. "Then you can snarl and bark at me all you want."

Elsa opened her mouth to tell him off, but something inside of herself stopped her from doing so; either he had come to hurt her and antagonizing him would set him off, or he didn't mean her any harm at all and actually had something important to say. Reluctantly, she closed her mouth, pressed her lips together, and nodded. When he spoke, his voice was like warm honey.

"Ultimately, in the grand scheme of things, what is more important: proving some _silly_ point about how I tricked your gullible sister, or protecting your father's company– the company that he built up from _nothing_ but his bare hands and the change in his pocket upon arriving in this country as an immigrant– and everything that it stands for?"

Elsa's blue eyes darted across his face in confusion. "I don't follow."

Hans tented his fingers together and began to round the desk that Elsa stood behind– the only barrier between them. "Let's say… there's _more_ to this case than simply Weselton House. Let's say I mailed those… _letters…_ to other publishing houses as well."

Elsa knew the letters he was referring to; the letters that Hans had printed on Elsa's own stolen stationery, containing some of Arendelle Publishing's most confidential and exclusive industry secrets. In the wrong hands, such information could shutter the entire company.

Well, in actuality, only _one_ letter had been discovered, addressed to Weselton House– or "Weasel Town," as they lovingly referred to their largest competitor– and it had been intercepted before it ever got delivered.

"You're bluffing," she accused half-heartedly. Her wrist still tingled with the phantoms of his fingers wrapped around it and she anxiously clutched her hands tighter.

"Perhaps." Hans lifted and dropped his shoulders in mock ignorance. "Perhaps not. _Maybe_ I still have them in my possession, and haven't mailed them yet. But I might."

"Are you _blackmailing_ me?" Elsa felt her face inadvertently scrunch into an expression of disgust. "This is extortion! Are you _trying_ to add more charges against you?"

"How about… you drop _all_ the charges, and I'll hand over _all_ of the letters." Hans stared her down– as if his very presence wasn't already intimidating enough. "And we can all be done with this whole burdensome fiasco. Isn't that what you want? Before you ever have to make an appearance in court and explain in front of everybody how easily I accessed the files of the CEO of a multi-billion dollar company _and_ made a fool of her sister."

"You're despicable." Elsa's lip pulled away from her teeth. "You must be out of your mind if you think I won't come for you for everything you're worth."

A laugh like a shout burst forth from the back of Hans's throat, startling Elsa and causing her to flinch. "You think _I'm_ the crazy one? Oh, Elsa."

He was on the same side of the desk as her now, drawing nearer to her, but Elsa stood her ground.

"First of all, I'm not worth much. That's no secret. So, even if you _do_ have your day in court, you'll never see a penny from me."

Elsa bit the inside of her cheek. She knew that he was probably telling the truth; during his entire courtship with her sister, Anna had paid for everything. He _did_ have a job, as a day trader, but who knew how profitable that was for him.

When Elsa didn't respond, Hans continued speaking.

"Speaking of things that aren't secrets… your mysophobia." He raised an eyebrow at her. They were standing only a few feet apart now. "Everyone knows about your love-hate relationship with filth. You think that you'll just show up in court with those gloves on and whine about how I tried to mail a letter and that'll just be that? How will anyone take you seriously if you won't even be able to put your hand on the Bible to swear your oath to tell the truth? Everyone will see firsthand how _crazy_ you are."

Being called "cold" was bearable. Even being called a "freak" was preferable.

But to be called " _crazy?_ "

Elsa's vision flashed white.

Without thinking, her hand flung forward with devilish speed, striking Hans clear across the face. In the shock that followed, as Elsa had never struck another human being before, she managed to find her voice.

"You're the scum of the Earth," she spat. She tried to sound confident, but her voice wavered.

"I know you never liked me, Elsa," Hans cooed, gingerly rubbing his face, which was now a deep red from Elsa's slap. "Hell, you had no reason to. But this is a good deal. We can help each other out. You _need_ this."

Suddenly, his expression changed, melting away to reveal a look that was _much_ more sinister. He eyed Elsa from the bottom and upward, allowing his appreciative gaze to travel from her to red-soled heels and stocking-clad legs to her face, lingering a little too long for comfort at Elsa's midsection. Even through her thick layers of clothing, she could feel the burn of his stare.

"Or maybe… _this_ isn't what you need." He licked his lips salaciously and Elsa felt her gut drop at the sight.

 _Why is he looking at me like that?_

Fear pricked at the back of her neck. "What are you doing?"

"I know what you need, Elsa." He leaned in close, closer than anyone had ever leaned in to Elsa before, and whispered in her ear. "And I can give it to you."

"I…"

"You've never been with another person… _that_ way, have you?" Hans teased, his warm, moist breath ghosting over the shell of Elsa's ear and causing her to shiver. Being this close, he smelled like cloves and sandalwood. "I can tell. You're frustrated."

A heat began to pool in the pit of Elsa's abdomen at his proximity and nausea washed over her.

"Get out," she seethed without looking at him, standing as still as a statue, finding her confidence at last. "Now. Before I call the police and have you arrested for trespassing on top of your other charges."

Hans nodded and took a step back, but he was grinning. "Think about my offer."

He waved a hand in farewell, his green eyes meeting her own blues one final time before he turned on his heel and left Elsa's office without another look back at the shaken woman he left behind.

As soon as Elsa heard the elevators ping on the other end of the floor, she collapsed against her desk, bracing herself against it for support as a myriad of emotions swirled and bubbled inside of her in a confusing cocktail that made her knees bang together.

She wasn't sure if she was feeling afraid, or something else entirely, but she wouldn't dare to allow herself to think about it.


	4. Chapter 4

I know I'm acting a bit crazy

Strung out, a little bit hazy

Hand over heart, I'm praying

That I'm gonna make it out alive

Selena Gomez, "The Heart Wants What It Wants"

–

Hot steam from the shower filled the room, choking the air, as Elsa turned her arm this way and that, inspecting it in the mirror; she half-expected to see third-degree burns where Hans had touched her, but there were none. Just the same unmarred, milky skin as always.

Picking up a paddle brush, Elsa tried to distract herself from thoughts of her confrontation with the redheaded man by brushing out her long, damp hair, freshly clean from the shower. She didn't love many things about herself, but her silky, naturally platinum-blonde hair was a point of pride for the young woman; she took very good care of it and always made an effort to style it in a dignified coiffure, chignon, or braid. She never wore it down.

As she worked her fingers through her wet locks to braid them, she accidentally brushed a fingertip over the crest of her ear– the same ear that Hans had been whispering against mere hours earlier, and her stomach flipped.

Elsa shuddered at the memory. Although their tense exchange had only lasted a few minutes at the most, the effects of it stuck with her for long afterward. Her abdominal muscles were tight and she felt on edge, waiting for the drop that would ultimately come as a result of Hans's touch, but it never came. Perhaps she really wasn't as affected by Hans's skin on hers as she had expected. Or, perhaps she was affected, but in a different way.

It was unsettling.

Not only that, but it was obvious that Hans was trying to get her riled up, and yet she was still falling right into his trap; she knew that he wasn't really trying to seduce her– that, as a master manipulator, he was simply pushing the buttons that he knew would elicit a response from the elder Arendelle, to cloud her judgement, so that she would ultimately agree to his deal.

He really has some nerve.

Shaking her head, Elsa threw her paddle brush back into the vanity drawer and slammed it shut, storming out of the bathroom as she inwardly scolded herself.

She refused to think about Hans or entertain his proposal– either of them– any further.

–

The morning was cold but the sky was clear when Elsa arrived to the seafood restaurant that Anna had picked for their brunch date. The elder Arendelle sister had assumed that most pregnant women would feel sick at the very notion of seafood, but apparently Anna had a hankering for it.

The interior was tastefully decorated, with exposed wooden beams and rustic nautical decor lining the walls, reminding her vaguely of her parents' estate at Cape Cod, where Anna and Kristoff had begun to live half of the time. But as Anna's due date drew nearer, she spent more time in the city to be near her doctor and hospital. Kristoff accompanied his wife whenever he could, but he had to handle their event management business at the Cape.

Elsa was the first to arrive, as usual, despite the time already being 11:05. She followed a hostess to a table in the back and sat, ordering a hot tea before settling in to wait. She didn't have to wait long.

"Elsa!"

The woman called by name glanced up to see her strawberry-blonde sister approach; she was dressed comfortably in baggy pink joggers and an ivory peasant blouse with her hair pulled up messily atop her head– a stark contrast to Elsa's own midnight blue pantsuit and braided locks– her bulging belly reaching the table before the rest of her did.

"Good morning, Anna," Elsa teased affectionately. "Or should I say 'afternoon'?"

"Very funny," Anna replied with a roll of her eyes as she sank into her seat across from Elsa, mindful of her protruding abdomen.

A waitress came over to take their orders; the crab cakes and homestyle fries for Anna, and another hot tea for Elsa. Anna didn't even bother to ask if Elsa had eaten already; by this point, she knew the routine. Even if Elsa was the type of person who'd eat food that wasn't personally prepared by herself or Anna, she wouldn't have been able to eat a single bite, her stomach still rolling from her interaction with Hans the previous night.

When the waitress left, Anna watched her sister with her forehead creased, pursing her lips.

"Elsa, are you alright?"

The blonde woman's head snapped in her sister's direction at hearing her voice. "Yes, why do you ask?"

Anna shrugged. "You seem… distracted."

"There's a lot on my mind, I guess," Elsa confessed. "Arendelle's lawyers have finally wrapped up their case, so all that's left is for us to testify."

It was only a half-lie. She knew that Anna would know that she was talking about the case against her ex-fiance.

"I can't believe that there's only a few weeks left until this nightmare is finally over." Elsa sighed. "I'm just sorry that you'll have to face him again and rehash everything you went through– especially considering your condition."

I just have to avoid any further contact with Hans until then.

Anna guffawed. "Please, don't you worry about me. I'm over it."

She waved her hand with a flick of her wrist for emphasis, the diamond solitaire on her ring finger flashing in the light.

Elsa blinked at her sister. "You're over it?"

"I want this to all be over just as much as you do," Anna said quietly, deathly serious for once, the fingertips of both hands resting against either side of her water glass. "It's been hard, trying to forgive him– but I'm doing it for myself. I may have wasted a small part of myself and my life with that douchebag, but if it hadn't been for him… well, I would have never met Kristoff and I wouldn't be as happy as I am now. You know what I'm saying?"

Elsa nodded solemnly; she understood completely. Watching her sister fall out of love with Hans– and into love with Kristoff– had been one of the most beautifully uncomplicated things that Elsa had ever witnessed. She knew from the first moment she saw them together that their love was the real deal, although it took Anna a little bit longer to realize it. Frankly, if she had to admit it to herself, Elsa was a tad jealous; Anna had always been able to attract any guy she wanted, and now she had landed the greatest catch of them all.

"I know what you're saying."

After a minute of reprieve, any further talk of Hans was cut by the arrival of Anna's food and Elsa's tea. Soon enough they delved into the topic of Anna's baby shower.

"Well, why don't we have it at the Cape?" Elsa suggested. "It's more than big enough to accommodate the guest list."

"I was thinking of having it in the city– you know, to be closer to everyone."

"Yeah, that makes sense," Elsa replied absentmindedly, allowing her focus to travel out the window.

"And I was thinking of doing lavender and silver for the decorations."

Elsa hummed her agreement, taking a sip of her tea. Anna sighed.

"I really am sorry, Elsa," the younger Arendelle said quietly. "I can tell that you haven't been yourself since… the date. I'm sure that was the last thing you needed to happen on top of everything else going on."

She meant her date with Erik. Elsa could detect the guilt in her sister's voice; there was no doubt that Anna felt responsible for the whole disaster, as she had arranged the entire thing in the first place.

Truth be told, Elsa wasn't still upset about the disastrous date, but rather was once again pondering Hans's words to her from the previous evening in her office. Did he actually have any letters to bargain with, or was it all a trick to get Elsa to let him off the hook? And why had he teased her the way he had, daring to offer her something so suggestive? The uncertainty was driving her insane.

She squeezed her knees together.

Stop thinking about it, she scolded herself.

"I'm fine," Elsa lied, turning her attention back to her sister's freckled face and forcing a reassuring smile for her sake.

Anna snorted at her poor attempt to play it off. "The date was that bad, huh?"

Elsa let out a breath. "It was pretty bad."

"Well, at least we tried, right?" Anna said. She was trying her best to sound chipper. "Now we know for next time."

Elsa's jaw dropped, her mouth hanging open. "Next time?"

"Well, yeah." Anna scratched behind her ear awkwardly. "You can't be alone forever."

"I can, and I will," Elsa snapped. She felt the blood drain from her face and her hands began to shake.

"I'm just trying to help," the redhead huffed with a pout, leaning back in her chair to make room to cross her arms over her belly.

She thinks I need help.

Years of therapy hadn't done much, so how could Anna even begin to understand? Panic raced through Elsa's veins; confrontation tended to have that effect on her.

If only you knew, Anna.

"I don't need help!"

Elsa thought again of Hans's own offer to "help" her and felt an uncomfortable heat begin to spread through her body, originating in a spot between her legs. Before she knew what she was doing, Elsa was on her feet, her own chair scraping back. She couldn't wait any longer. She needed answers from Hans before he drove her insane.

Well, more insane than she already was.

"Alright, alright, I'm sorry! Elsa, where are you going? Come back!"

She'd apologize to her sister later. For now, Elsa had to get home and get her head right before she had a public meltdown.

One was already enough for the week.


	5. Chapter 5

_Crawling underneath my skin  
Sweet talk with a hint of sin_

 _Begging you to take me_

 _Devil underneath your grin_

 _Sweet thing, bet you play to win_

 _Heaven's gonna hate me_

 _Halsey, "Not Afraid Anymore"_

–

 _Hans Westergaard._

Elsa stared at the name on her phone screen, willing herself to summon the courage to call him.

Anna had put his number in Elsa's phone years ago when they had begun dating, and the elder Arendelle was surprised to see the contact still in her phone; she had simply never deleted it, and never dreamed that there would ever be a day that she'd need to use it.

Groaning, Elsa threw the device down on the end table and rose from the couch, forcing herself towards the kitchen to make some tea, desperate for something with which to distract herself.

Her house slippers made quiet taps on the tile floor as she entered the room, echoing off of the high ceilings and picturesque windows that boasted fantastic views of her backyard garden and the city beyond. Of all the rooms in her townhouse, the kitchen was her favorite; she had picked out the white cabinets and white marble countertops herself, and decorated it with chrome hardware, mercury glass findings, and icy blue knick-knacks that perfectly accentuated the stylish stainless steel appliances she had imported from Switzerland. Everything in the room was polished from hours of cleaning and shone to perfection; despite her steady income, Elsa still preferred to clean her home herself. She was very particular about her cleaning, and didn't trust a cleaning service as much as she trusted her own tried-and-true methods of keeping house.

Not to mention that Elsa rarely allowed anyone inside of her home, short of Anna and Kristoff and her future niece or nephew.

After filling the kettle with water from the tap, she placed it on the stove and turned the burner on. She took a mug from a cabinet and went about finding a bag of green tea in another cabinet, placing it inside the mug once she found one, careful to leave the paper tab stapled to the end of the string on the outside. Once her setup was complete, she settled into a chair at her kitchen table while she waited for the water to boil, glancing over at her phone where it lay on the end table in the living room every so often. The feeling of dread that came with the promise of an impending confrontation with Hans shook her to her core.

What if Hans was right? She worried her bottom lip between her pristine teeth at the thought. It was true, she had never been with another person in the way he had suggested; she had tried to experiment with her body once in college– by herself– but she had felt too uncomfortable for anything to come of it, and so she had never bothered with such ideas again.

Feeling self-conscious at the mere memory of her one-time failed sexual exploration, Elsa pulled her fluffy bathrobe tighter around herself.

But what if _that_ was what she wanted? No… what if it was what she _needed?_

The kettle began to whistle behind her. Shaken from her thoughts, Elsa rose from her seat, turned the burner off, and lifted the pot from the stove; it quieted, and she poured steaming water from the spout into her mug, the contents of which began to turn yellow-green from the teabag.

"He didn't mean anything by it," Elsa scolded herself for the umpteenth time. She ignored the urge to glance at her phone again. "He's just trying to mess with your head and cloud your judgement so that you end up tripping up and making a wrong move. You know this. Trust your gut."

No matter how many times she had to remind herself of Hans's trickery, his tactics appeared to have worked, as before Elsa knew what she had done she had picked up her phone and dialed his number, her tea left forgotten on the kitchen counter.

It was ringing. She tried not to panic when his voice came through the receiver.

" _Hello._ "

Elsa's anxiety shot through the roof. _Should I hang up? No, it's too late now– he'll know. Damn it._

His greeting wasn't an inquiry, but rather a knowing statement– a _purr_ ; his voice didn't betray even the slightest hint of curiosity at who could possibly be calling at such an hour.

 _As smooth as always._

Sucking in a breath, Elsa prepared herself for conversation.

"Hans." She tried to match his confidence with her own, yet her voice still wavered. "I've thought about your offer."

She wanted to keep the call straight and to the point, but Hans wouldn't let her.

" _Which one?_ " he asked, his inculpable voice coming through fuzzily due to the poor cell connection. Somehow, it managed to make him all the more sinister, even though it wasn't technically his fault.

"You know which one," Elsa snapped. She could almost _see_ Hans's smug face through the phone and wanted to scream.

Hans feigned innocence, but the amusement in his tone was evident. " _No, I'm actually afraid that I don't know which one you're referring to. Could you clarify?_ "

Elsa's paranoid mind began to run through a million different scenarios at his game. What if he was recording her, looking for a way to expose her and destroy her credibility in court? A tape of the prosecution's client making an unofficial deal with the criminal defendant wouldn't go down well at all.

Maybe he was genuinely confused as to which proposition she was calling to accept. After all, she _was_ calling him rather late at night on a Saturday evening– too late for any normal business to occur.

Or maybe he was just messing with her, since he was damn good at it and seemed to enjoy doing so.

"I don't need to clarify for you. Be here at ten o'clock or don't come at all," Elsa hissed. "Your choice."

She paused, waiting to see if he'd respond, but he disconnected their call before Elsa could do so herself.

 _The bastard._

The thought of imbibing her freshly-made tea suddenly made her feel deathly ill, and so she dumped the entire thing in the sink, mug and all. She began to pace, pressing her hands to her face, as though by doing so she could keep herself from falling apart. Cold, _cold_ blood pulsed through her body.

Hans was coming. And soon.

She debated putting on some makeup or changing out of her pajamas– as she was clad in only a baby blue silk nightie beneath her robe, her long, silver hair braided in a single rope that dangled over her shoulder and down her chest– but then she feared that Hans would presume she would be "dressing up" for him if she put on anything else. At the very least, Elsa figured she should put on gloves. She was normally fine with going gloveless inside of her own abode, but donning a pair of plain cotton gloves she kept for the sole purpose of wearing inside the house brought her a measure of comfort– which she desperately needed as she prepared to meet Hans face-to-face.

She passed the remainder of the hour waiting for Hans by arranging and rearranging the few items she owned in the living room, never satisfied with their placement, until she finally gave up and resumed pacing and nervously clasping at her own face.

At a quarter past ten, the doorbell rang. Elsa remembered Anna telling her once that Hans was always perpetually late; she should have expected as much.

Opening the door, she was greeted by the sight of Hans smiling cordially at her without much fanfare. He was dressed casually, in dark, fitted jeans, sporty black sneakers, and a black leather jacket– a stark contrast to to the shabby bathrobe she wore. He wasn't carrying anything, which Elsa found odd; his hands were completely empty, devoid of any of the letters he claimed to have in his possession. Perhaps they were in his jacket.

She also noticed for not the first time that he was a couple of inches taller than her, and stronger, evident by the lean muscles that bulged slightly in his neck. Her heart refused to cease its erratic beating at his proximity and she worried that she might faint.

 _I should have changed clothes._

Elsa didn't realize she was simply staring at him, lips parted, until Hans cleared his throat.

"Aren't you going to invite me in?"

The last thing that Elsa wanted was Hans Westegaard himself inside of her home, her personal sanctuary, but she supposed that they very well couldn't handle their business out on the front stoop.

Elsa blinked rapidly, gaining control of her faculties. "Come in. Take your shoes off immediately, and don't touch anything."

Hans did as he was instructed, brushing past her as he stepped over the threshold. After removing his shoes, Elsa led him out of the foyer and into the living room. When she turned around to address him, she caught him eyeing her plastic-sheathed furniture with thinly veiled hilarity and felt her face flush. Covering her couch in protective plastic was another little quirk of hers that brought her comfort in the midst of her… condition. And she wouldn't dare let Hans try to shame her for it.

She decided then and there that she wasn't going to put up with any of his nonsense. The sooner they could sort out their business and he could leave, the better.

"Did you bring the letters?" Elsa crossed her arms over her chest as she stared him down from her spot in the middle of the living room. He seemed preoccupied with scanning every inch of her townhome with his inquisitive gaze– avoiding looking at her directly.

Hans pursed his lips, ignoring her question as he inspected a piece of wall art near the stairs. "Might I use your bathroom?"

He turned to face her at last and his green eyes twinkled. Elsa raised an eyebrow at him, puzzled and a bit irked the audacity of such a request.

"Down the hall, first door on your right." The platinum-haired woman ticked her head in the direction he was supposed to go. He smiled and nodded, then disappeared from her sight; she heard the _click_ of him locking the bathroom door behind himself.

Unsure of what to do with herself, Elsa simply waited, rooted to her spot in the center of the room, until she heard the toilet flush and the sound of rushing water from the bathroom faucet. Hans re-emerged a moment later, looking relatively unfazed by his presence in her home. Elsa, on the other hand, felt her nerves fizzle and pop and die off one-by-one with each passing second that he toyed with her by being there.

"Let's just get this done quickly, alright?" Elsa huffed impatiently, practically tapping her foot in irritation at his dallying. "I'd like to go to bed soon."

Hans lifted and dropped his shoulders in acquiescence to her command– or rather, her command as he interpreted it.

"As you wish."

Before Elsa knew what was happening, Hans had removed his jacket and was on top of her, pushing her down onto the couch, the plastic crinkling loudly beneath them and filling her ears. She let out a shriek and pushed at him, both hands flat against his covered chest, to keep some distance between them, the front of his hips nearly flush with hers.

"W-what the _hell_ do you think you're doing?" Elsa cried, her voice shrill with fear. He was on top of her and all around her, effectively pinning her beneath him, their combined weights causing their bodies to sink as one into the cushions of the sofa, like it was a mold that had been made specifically for them.

 _So, he did come to kill me after all,_ Elsa thought with defeat, regrettably resigning to anticipating the moment he'd stick the point of a blade between her ribs. She wasn't nearly strong enough to push him off of her. Even if she struggled or attempted to fight back, she'd lose.

"Isn't this what you wanted?" Hans asked with a cock of his head, looking down at her– observing her. "Isn't this why you called me over so late at night? And you're wearing this bathrobe…"

His hand began to play with the flimsy tie that kept the flap of her robe closed, and Elsa instinctively reached down to slap his hand away. When he spoke, he was close enough that his hot breath ghosted over her face and neck, electrifying Elsa's body and causing her to shiver, the familiar heat pooling in the pit of her stomach.

"This _is_ why you called me here, isn't it?"

Elsa didn't want to even know how deep of a red her face had turned; she damned her fair complexion. Of course he hadn't come to her home to murder her; he was under the impression that he was here to deflower her– or, so he claimed.

"I called you here to discuss the letters, you heathen. Don't act like you didn't know." Elsa said the words slowly, matter-of-factly, daring to look directly into Hans's eyes, despite how intimidating his warm, heavy body was on top of her. She tried not to let her affliction show; he was closer to her than she had ever allowed anyone to be before, but she still found it surprisingly easy to breathe as long as she focused.

"My bad," Hans cooed. "I'm afraid I didn't bring them, since you didn't specify on the phone what you wanted me here for."

He shifted a little as he settled between her spread knees, only causing the pair to inadvertently snuggle closer together on the tiny couch. Her robe edged upward, riding higher up her legs, exposing her calves. Fire raced through Elsa's body and she let out a gasp.

"I'm going to be sick. Get off of me."

"Say 'please,'" Hans teased in response, his green eyes burning into her blues. Elsa's stomach did a backflip at his taunt.

"Fuck you," Elsa cursed. She rarely swore, but now seemed as good of a time as any.

"No, no, no, Elsa," Hans chided, clicking his tongue. She was suddenly very aware of his fingertips dancing beneath her bathrobe, parting the material to touch the top of her thigh ever so lightly. "What I think you mean is fuck _you_."

His fingers made their way up her leg, beneath the hem of her silk nightie, to her panties, and tugged at the lacy, scalloped edges.

"No, Hans–"

"Oh, come on now, Elsa. Don't tell me I know you better than you know yourself?"

Elsa gulped. She wanted to shake her head, but she couldn't move.

"I saw how affected you were by me in your office yesterday. I grabbed your wrist and you didn't even _flinch_." Hans smirked. "Even if you try to deny it, you react to me. Your body _wants_ me. Aren't you even a _little_ curious to see what it would be like?"

Swallowing thickly, Elsa turned her head, avoiding the burn of his stare. She refused to answer.

"Already so wet," he murmured with a low growl, and Elsa shuddered when she felt a single knuckle brush over her womanhood.

 _I'm… wet?_ Elsa had no idea, her mind hyper-focused on Hans's fingers as they grazed over her covered flesh, alighting her wherever they went. It was terrifying and exhilarating all at once. Luckily, her nausea seemed to have abated for now, so at the very least she wouldn't end up puking on him.

Although, hurling all over Hans didn't seem like such a bad idea if it meant that he would stop his ministrations of the flesh where her thigh joined at her groin, next to her underwear, his thumb rubbing circles in the crevice there. But vomit was filth, and Elsa had an aversion to filth– including whatever filth could possibly be on Hans's hands as he trekked them across her bare skin, surely opening her to be vulnerable to infection.

"Don't worry," Hans rumbled, as though he could hear her thoughts. "My hands are clean. I've just washed them."

Elsa dared to gaze down at his fingers; his nails were neatly trimmed, and they did look impeccably clean. As clean as her own.

"Have you lost your mind?" Elsa tried to hiss as she met his eyes once more, but it came out sounding more like a whimper.

"Have you?" Hans retorted.

Then, he grinned.

"If you want me to stop, I'll stop. Just say the word."

She wanted to say the words, even opened her mouth to say them, but no sound came out. She couldn't tell him to stop now– now that he was touching her where she had never been touched before, and she had yet to spiral into a full-blown panic attack. Aside from the adrenaline racing through her veins and the lusty haze that had begun to fog over her brain, she actually felt fine. A little confused, but fine.

No, she felt more than fine– she felt _great_.

Elsa closed her mouth without saying anything. Hans took this as his cue to continue, and pushed the soaked fabric of her panties aside, gently pushing a finger forward until it was inside of her.

Elsa gasped at the intrusion, but forced herself to relax. At first, she felt nothing but a mild discomfort, and the disappointment that crept into her mind, invading her thoughts.

 _That's it?_ she thought bitterly. _This is what I've been missing?_

But soon enough the sensation began to transform– as he pulled the digit out and pushed it back in again, repeating the movement until the friction between her legs blossomed into something else: pleasure.

"Oh." And then: " _Ohh_."

Elsa closed her eyes as Hans pumped his finger in and out of her with gradually increasing speed; it helped to not have to see his face as her pleasure built, focusing solely on the primal sensations rippling through her abdomen from her sex. The pad of his thumb found the hooded pleasure point at the top of her slit and pressed there, causing Elsa to croon. A wetness trailed from within her, dampening her bottom and making the plastic beneath her slick with her own juices.

"Look at me," Hans commanded. "Look into the face of the one doing this to you."

Reluctantly, Elsa opened her eyes, meeting the lust-filled gaze of her baby sister's ex-fiance.

 _Don't think about that right now. Don't you dare._

She watched his face for as long as could, feeling her own facial expressions morph and change while his own stayed rigidly similar, until he added another finger to his movements, stretching her, and Elsa had to squeeze her eyes shut in anticipation of something that she knew was coming. It was a gut feeling, like a wave about to wash over her entire being, and she was ready for it, when Hans suddenly withdrew his fingers from her.

Her dazed eyes snapped open and focused on Hans. She blinked at him.

"What–"

"Drop the charges."

Unable to comprehend right away, Elsa stared at the man on top of her, mouth agape and breathing heavily as she processed his demand.

"You can't be serious," she mumbled, feeling her mind becoming more lucid as her body steadily came down from the precipice of her high.

Hans grimaced with fake remorse. "As the plague."

White-hot anger– fueled by her humiliation– bubbled up in Elsa's chest.

"Get out," Elsa seethed, pushing him off of her so that she could rise to her feet. Hans obliged without a fight, putting up both hands in a gesture of non-resistance.

"If you're sure."

" _Get the fuck out of my house!_ "

Elsa was shocked by the unprecedented volume of her own voice, but she didn't care. The only thing she wanted more than for Hans to finish what he had started with her was to get out of her sight and go far, _far_ away as soon as possible– two completely opposite ideologies that left Elsa feeling torn and even more nauseous than she had been earlier.

Without another word, Hans grabbed his jacket from where it lay on the floor, shooting a sickly sweet smile in her direction before letting himself out and cautiously closing the door behind him, leaving a thoroughly frazzled Elsa aching and leaking as she stood trembling in front of the sofa.


	6. Chapter 6

_Your fingertips trace my skin_

 _To places I have never been_

 _Blindly, I am following_

 _Break down these walls and come on in_

 _Selena Gomez, "Wolves"_

–

Sunday came and went in a blur, and before Elsa knew it she was sitting at her desk early on Monday morning with her knees squeezed together.

She tried crossing and uncrossing her legs in succession, but nothing seemed to ease the ache between her thighs that hadn't abated since Saturday, leaving her cranky and unsatisfied. She tried not to focus on it too much as her heavily pregnant, redheaded sister circled her office floor, prattling on about details of her upcoming baby shower that Elsa found herself only half-listening to.

"I called the venue, and they said they can accommodate up to four hundred people, but I was thinking of keeping it smaller. What do you think, Elsa?"

Stifling a groan, Elsa managed to raise her head from her desk and look interested.

"Not sure, depends on what you mean by _smaller._ "

Anna shrugged. "Around two-hundred, two-hundred-fifty."

The elder Arendelle snorted. "You consider that 'small?'"

"I already have over a hundred names on the guest list, and I'm not even done." Anna's eyes lit up and she clapped her open palms together excitedly; Elsa swore she could see the baby bouncing within her bulging belly through the thin pink sweater she wore. "I've sent out the first batch of invitations, too, and a lot of people have already responded, so–"

Elsa shook her head and dropped her eyes back down to the paperwork on the desk in front of her, scribbling out her signature on the bottom of the page before flipping to the next.

"Remind me not to trust your judgement on matters of size, then."

"Hey," Anna started, crossing the room to stand in front of Elsa's desk. " _You_ haven't even responded to my invitation yet, Your Royal Highness."

"Anna, you know that I'll be there."

"Promise?"

Elsa tried to swallow back the irritation rising in her throat. "Yes, Anna, I promise."

"Pinky swear?"

"Yes, yes, pinky swear."

Anna stuck her pinky finger out for Elsa to take. "Swear, then!"

"I'll be there, _I promise_." Elsa exhaled sharply, quickly feeling herself losing her cool; the last thing she needed on top of everything else going on was Anna's sisterly mind games. "Now, please– _please–_ _leave me alone._ Unlike _you,_ Little Miss Maternity Leave, I actually have _real_ work to do!"

Anna took a step back, raising her hands in front of herself. "Whoa, chill, no need to bite my head off."

Elsa sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose between two gray-gloved fingers.

"I'm sorry, Anna," she said apologetically. "It's just that– I had this contract that I was supposed to read and finish over the weekend, and I didn't get around to it, and now I have to finish it and make a decision within the hour."

"Wow, you didn't finish something work-related? That's not like you." Anna's brow creased. "Busy weekend?"

"Of course not."

"Are you feeling okay?"

Before Elsa could respond, the back of Anna's hand was pressed to her forehead.

Now it was Elsa's turn for her brow to crease. "Anna, what are you doing?"

"Checking your temperature," she replied nonchalantly. Then, she frowned. "Normally you're as cold as ice, but you're burning up. Are you getting sick?"

"No, I'm not sick, I just didn't sleep well."

Anna took another step back– just in case– and patted her belly.

"If you're sick, keep it away from me. The last thing I need is any last-minute complications."

"You're more likely to get complications from all the processed chocolate snack cakes that Kristoff tells me you keep binging in the middle of the night."

Anna's face flushed with embarrassment. "I can't believe he told you that."

"He didn't," Elsa snarked, shooting her sister a cheeky smile. " _You_ just did."

The younger Arendelle made a move as though to punch her sister on the arm, but held her fist with her other hand instead and growled, causing Elsa to laugh. Anna could be so theatric sometimes.

She calmed and sighed. "But you're _really_ okay?"

Elsa nodded. For added affirmation, she reached forward and pulled Anna's invite from a stack of paperwork on her desk, marking off the RSVP box with her pen before holding it out to her sister.

"I _will_ be there, alright? Now, go back to the Cape and relax for the rest of the week. I'm sure Kristoff wants you and the baby there just as much as your doctor does."

Hesitantly, Anna nodded, biting the inside of her cheek.

"Okay," she took the piece of paper from her sister gratefully and turned to leave, but spun on her heel.

"And Elsa… I'm sorry. I know that my pregnancy brain is driving you up the wall."

"You already drive me up the wall."

"I know, I know, but I mean– like– more than usual." Anna brushed some stray hairs away from her face with her fingers; she had styled her strawberry-blonde locks in twin braids that day. "I know it must be getting to Kristoff, too, but he doesn't show it. Thank God he has the patience of a saint. I'm just super stressed because this baby shower is so last minute, and it's freaking me out– what if no one shows up?"

"Everyone loves you, Anna," Elsa assured her, smiling. "Of course they'll show up– myself included."

Anna couldn't help but smile back. "Thanks, sis."

As she skipped out of the room, invitation in hand, Elsa allowed her facade to fall.

 _Everyone loves Anna and nobody loves me,_ she thought, trying not to feel too sour about it. _Just like always. Just the way it should be._

Shaking her head to clear away any remaining ideas of self-loathing, her focus returned immediately to the dull throbbing in her sex. She tried shifting in her seat to ease the soreness, even adjusting her charcoal gray pencil skirt, but nothing helped, and she groaned out loud, propping her elbows on her desk and burying her face in her hands. As if she hadn't hated herself already, her indiscretion with Hans had been the icing on the cake; it was easily at the top of the list on a long list of mistakes in Elsa's life. It could never happen again– and she would ensure that it didn't.

Elsa loved her sister– her last living relative– more than anything, and after years of being cold and distant and an overall a terrible person in the wake of their parents' untimely deaths, Elsa had finally owned up to her faults and spent the past few years making up for lost time. They quickly rebuilt the close sibling relationship they used to have as kids.

And yet Elsa had still gone and betrayed her sister's trust in a major way. It was almost criminal. It was one thing to meet with her sister's ex-fiance behind her back to discuss matters of the case without informing Anna, but to actually be _intimate_ with him? Elsa felt lower than she had ever felt before in her young life.

But what if Hans wasn't lying? What if he truly did have more letters? Letters that could shutter Arendelle Publishing for good if they ended up in the wrong hands?

 _Damn him._

As if on cue, her desk phone rang, startling Elsa enough to cause her to jump in her chair. She glanced at the tiny screen to see a number she didn't recognize. There was no name.

 _That's strange,_ she thought. Normally, anyone who called her office line would reach Gerda, her secretary, who would then transfer the call or decline it, depending on Elsa's availability. But whoever this was, they were calling her extension directly. The only person who tended to do so was Anna.

Warily, Elsa picked up the handset and pressed it to her ear.

"Elsa Arendelle," she introduced herself by way of greeting. A breathy laugh on the other line caused her blood to freeze in her veins; she recognized the voice before it even spoke.

" _So formal,_ " Hans chuckled. Although his tone was as even as ever, he sounded tired.

Elsa looked around to be sure that no one was coming towards her office, leaning in her seat to be sure that Gerda was out of earshot. The secretarial desk just outside of her office was devoid of life.

Once she was sure that the coast was clear, she returned to the call, but kept her voice to a hushed volume.

"How _dare_ you call me on my office line," she hissed, pressing her free hand to her breast, as though by doing so she could still her hammering heart. "How did you get this number?"

" _Aw, you sound cranky, Princess. Long weekend? Didn't get enough sleep?_ "

"If you've called only to taunt me, I won't tolerate this–"

" _Oh no, Elsa, I didn't call to taunt you._ "

Elsa's face scrunched in annoyance. "Why did you call, then? It better be to apologize."

Another breathy laugh. " _Apologize for what? I only did what you wanted me to. And you_ really _wanted me to._ "

Elsa felt her face deepen to a thousand shades of red and a heat began to radiate outward from her chest. She peeked around her desk once more, double-checking that no one was coming down the hall.

" _But no, I didn't call to apologize. I called to chat._ "

Elsa blinked. "You called me… just to chat?"

" _Yes._ " She could hear the smile in Hans's voice. " _How's your day so far?_ "

Perturbed, Elsa's mouth hung open as she tried to answer, unsure of how to even respond.

"You're ridiculous," was all that she managed to say after a moment of contemplation. She couldn't believe what was happening; she pinched her arm to confirm that she wasn't dreaming.

" _Well, that's rude,_ " Hans bemoaned from the other end of the line. " _You didn't seem to think I was ridiculous on Saturday night when I had my fingers deep in your pussy._ "

Although she hadn't been the one to say it, Elsa's hand flew to cover her mouth at hearing such vulgar language.

"Yes, I did," Elsa stammered. "You were being ridiculous then and you're being ridiculous now. I'm hanging up."

A sigh. " _If you hang up now, then how am I going to be able to tell you all of the things I'm going to do to you?_ "

Elsa's body had reached a feverish temperature and she felt the sweat that began to form beneath either of her armpits. She hoped that it wouldn't soak through her blazer. A sharp, stabbing pain shot through her leg suddenly, and she realized that she had been pressing her legs together so tightly that she nearly pulled a muscle.

 _Hang up the phone,_ Elsa inwardly commanded herself. _Hang up the phone. Right now._

But she couldn't. After years of practicing and honing her self-control, Hans had diminished her progress in one fell swoop. Her curiosity– combined with her need– wouldn't allow her to disconnect the call.

Swallowing thickly, Elsa tried her best to sound unaffected as she took his bait: "W-what do you mean?"

She heard Hans inhale before speaking.

" _Well,_ " he started, carefully mulling over his words, searching for the right way to phrase what he wanted to say. " _First, I'd undress you. Slowly. Careful not to let my hands touch your bare skin, as much as I know you'd want it. Then we'd head into the shower– together– and take turns washing each other in the hot water and steam until we were both clean enough for you._ "

Elsa felt the sting of his backhanded mention of her germaphobia. "Are you mocking me?"

" _Not at all,_ " Hans breathed. If Elsa didn't know any better, she could almost swear he sounded just as turned on as she felt, but she knew that it was a trick.

 _He's good. Too good. Damn him._

"Then… then what?" she asked quietly, the question leaving her lips before she could stop it.

" _Then we'd move to the bedroom. I'd lay you down on the bed, on your back, and promise to take care of your needs. And as much as you try to deny it… I_ know _you have needs._ "

A shiver rippled up Elsa's spine. She felt the juices that had begun to trickle out of her, pooling in her panties; she had to fight the urge to reach down and touch herself there.

" _I'd take my time massaging your breasts, toying with your nipples, pinching and twisting them until they hardened into buds beneath my touch..."_

Elsa's vision began to swim and she found it increasingly difficult to focus. She could imagine everything that Hans was saying to her, visualizing it in her mind, and it was driving her to that previous brink of pleasure that he had brought her to before.

" _... I'd spread your legs and gaze down upon your perfect little pussy. I'd prep you with a finger, and then another, rubbing your sensitive clit the entire time– I know how much you quite enjoyed that on Saturday. And then, once you were ready, I'd enter you with something a bit bigger than fingers– slowly, tantalizingly, stretching you–_ "

Despite the wetness in her underwear, Elsa's mouth felt incredibly dry, and she struggled to swallow back the moan that threatened to escape her throat as she squirmed. The concept of Hans's hard, throbbing member penetrating her virgin sex was too much to bear.

" _... and then I'd tease you, asking you what you wanted, not giving you what you wanted until you said it out loud for me. I'd make you_ beg _for me to fuck you._ "

Elsa bit down on her lip so hard that she tasted the iron tang of blood. When she spoke at last, she was breathless.

"You'd… you'd do all that... to… me?"

She knew that he was making a fool out of her, but it was an intriguing change of pace to feel attractive to somebody– to be _wanted_. Even if it wasn't real, she could close her eyes and pretend that it was; it felt nice.

" _I would… if you drop the charges._ "

Elsa's eyes flicked open.

"You…" Her voice trailed off, weakening as her heart sank at his words, her arousal instantaneously replaced with rage.

 _Damn him._

Unable or unwilling to say anything more as she painfully crashed back to reality, Elsa slammed the phone so hard back into its cradle that she was afraid she'd broken the handset. Once she saw that it was still in one piece, she picked it up and slammed it down a few more times for good measure, before finally ceasing her manic fit and letting out a strangled breath in a _whoosh_ of air.

She'd fallen for his tricks again. How stupid could she be? She was losing herself.

 _Damn. Him._

The sound of a polite throat clearing reached Elsa's ears. She looked up to see a startled Gerda standing just inside of her office door and hurriedly tried to regain her composure.

"H-hello, Gerda," Elsa choked out, her anger receding– although the heat in her face remained. "I, um… the phone… wrong number."

Without missing a beat, Gerda spoke, clutching her manila folder tighter to her chest.

"The board is ready to meet, Elsa," she managed to say; she sounded shaken, but still professional. "They're waiting for you in the main conference room."

Finally steadying her breathing, Elsa nodded.

"Thank you, Gerda."

With a nod, the elderly woman room scurried from the room.

The desperate need within her had only gotten worse, and Elsa cursed the fact that she'd have to burn the panties she was wearing as soon as she got home. She made a mental note to remember to tell Gerda to change her phone number.

As she rose– a tad wobbly on her heels– and gathered the necessary materials for her meeting with the board, she was shocked and surprised to find that– for the first time in forever– she wanted to punch something.

Hans's face came to the forefront of her mind as a particularly enticing target.


	7. Chapter 7

_You got me sippin' on something_

 _I can't compare to nothing_

 _I've ever known, I'm hoping_

 _That after this fever I'll survive_

 _Selena Gomez, "The Heart Wants What It Wants"_

–

"Miss Arendelle, so nice of you to finally join us."

Elsa steeled her expression as she entered the room.

"My apologies, gentlemen, I was on a– erm, important phone call."

Some of the members of the board bobbed their heads in understanding. Aside from Elsa there were nine other members of board, all of whom were men, and all older than Elsa. They'd been in the business since long before she was even born; some of them had even been on the board during her father's days as CEO.

She made her way to the head of the table and sat, setting her papers before her on the tabletop and ignoring the pressure pushing on her womb.

"So, we have a few housekeeping things to get through before we discuss the matter of Weselton House," the man sitting two seats down from Elsa started; he was middle aged, but the youngest in the room besides Elsa herself, tall and lanky with dark, slicked hair. "Concerning our investors, it has come to our attention that…"

Elsa tried to listen as the board went through their usual topics and duties, throwing in a comment every so often to give the impression that she was paying attention, but she found it difficult to truly focus on the business at hand due to her heightened physical state.

As if Hans couldn't consume her thoughts more than he already had been lately, his phone call alone had left Elsa a quivering mess. Visions of Hans having his way with her– egged on by the colorful language he had used– played over and over in her mind's eye, teasing her to no end, driving her mad.

 _This is what he wants. To make me desperate enough to call him to my bed. And damn, if it isn't working._

But why did she feel the need for Hans to be the one to satisfy her? Her body was so riled up already, there was probably a chance that she could take care of this "problem" by herself, without giving in to Hans. She pondered this as a possible solution, but was again reminded of her failed masturbatory attempt during her college years, and her hope dwindled like a candle down to the wick.

She didn't know her own body well enough to pleasure it, and she surely didn't have the confidence to try to do so. Not again, anyway.

Feeling a fresh wave of helplessness and anger crash over her, Elsa whipped out her phone and punched out a text.

 _Fuck you for doing this to me._

Before she could reconsider her actions, she sent it.

A minute later, she received a response from Hans.

 _What's wrong, feeling a little sensitive today?_

Elsa understood the double meaning and wanted to retch, but managed to save face in front of the members of the board. Glancing up, she breathed a tiny sigh of relief that everyone was too engrossed in their business to notice the subtle blush that graced her cheeks. She went to put her phone down instead of answering him, when it buzzed with another message from Hans. Unable to control herself, she read it.

 _You know what would help with that?_

Elsa clenched her teeth as she typed out her response. _I'm in a meeting._

Hans's reply was instantaneous. _Set your phone to vibrate._

Elsa blinked, her curiosity piqued.

 _Now put it between your legs._

She may have been a virgin, but she knew what he was getting at, and it would be entirely inappropriate in a work setting– but she was too desperate for some sort of relief to care much.

Hesitantly, Elsa did as she was told, covertly sliding the device along her seat until it nestled comfortably against the front of her underwear.

At the first buzz, Arendelle Publishing's CEO nearly flew out of her chair. The man at Elsa's left, the person sitting closest to her and only a few feet away, didn't seem to notice.

"Concerning Weselton House," the man speaking announced suddenly, segueing from his previous topic as he shuffled his papers; the name caught Elsa's attention and she sat up straighter in her chair, eager to listen. When the second vibration came from her phone, rupturing against her fabric-covered clitoris, she somehow managed to remain rigid. Only her toes twitched inside of her shoes.

"It's no secret that they've been on the downturn since the allegations against them concerning industrial espionage came to light, thanks to the Sisters Arendelle."

A murmur of approval rippled through the room.

 _Bzzzzt_.

"On _top_ of that, there was– of course– The Duke's own arrest and subsequent litigation for embezzlement. Now, rumor has it," the dark-haired man continued, scanning the room. "That they may even be forced to declare bankruptcy by the end of the quarter."

An even louder murmur made its way through the group this time; some had heard the rumor already, while others had heard no such thing. Elsa, of course– as CEO– had been the first to know.

But none of that mattered right now, as her phone received another message, followed quickly by a second one, and then a third, resulting in a lengthier, more drawn-out vibration that almost caused Elsa to cry out.

It wasn't enough to cure the ache she suffered from, but it was helping tremendously to temporarily soothe it.

"Now, we don't know that for sure," Elsa piped up, keeping her voice steady. "It's mere speculation at this point– _aah!_ "

Another buzz ripped through Elsa's body, resonating from her sex to the tips of her fingers in a roll of pleasure. She had to press both hands to the tabletop to keep still. A handful of eyebrows raised in her direction.

"Something to- to keep in mind as we– _ahah–_ "

 _Bzzzzt._

"Excuse me, we– we-eehah–"

 _Bzzzzt. Bzzzzt._

"I'm sorry, t-today's just really not a good day, so why- _ay_ don't we table this for n-next _week_? "

 _Bzzzzt bzzzzt bzzzzt bzzzt._

Elsa's leg involuntarily kicked out beneath the table; luckily, it didn't make contact with anyone around her. In a frantic bid for a reprieve from the pleasurable sensations originating at the point where her phone pressed against her womanhood, she reached below for the incessantly vibrating device and chucked it to the floor, hoping that none of the men around her had noticed. It clattered once and then ceased its buzzing.

"Yes, until next week," she reiterated with an exhale. "That shall conclude today's meeting. Thank you, gentlemen."

After exchanging looks, some miffed and others concerned, the members of the board packed up their things and began to shuffle out of the conference room, each one bidding Elsa goodbye as they left.

"So, Elsa," the black-haired man who had been speaking started jovially as he approached her, bowing his head in respect. "I've received invitation to your sister's baby shower this weekend. Will you be attending?"

"Yes, I–"

 _Bzzzzt_.

In a kind gesture, the man bent as though to retrieve her phone for her from its spot on the ground, but Elsa jumped from her seat and snatched it up before he could see the messages on her screen. Who knows what kind of nasty, sordid things Hans had sent to her?

"I'm sorry– I can't stay and chat, I have another phone call to attend to."

 _Bzzzzt_.

"I mean– I need to make it. The call. I need to make the call."

 _Bzzzzt_.

" _A_ call. I need to make _a_ call! Ha, not _the_ call. Just a call. A normal, regular call. So sorry, please excuse me."

Brushing past the dumbfounded man, Elsa hurriedly made her way to her office and practically slammed the door shut behind her, leaning her back against it as she allowed her racing heart a moment to calm itself.

She glanced at the messages that Hans had been sending her throughout her meeting; nothing but gibberish and a slew of emojis. It was apparent that he had just punched in whatever was convenient to send as many messages as quickly as possible.

Within moments, Elsa had hit the call button next to Hans's number.

" _That didn't take long,_ " he mused upon answering.

"Give me what I want," Elsa demanded before she could doubt herself.

" _What_ do _you want, Elsa? I don't even think_ you _know._ "

She strolled over to the windows of her office and gazed at the city below, focusing on nothing in particular. A trickle of wet slowly began to make its way down her inner thigh. It tickled.

"I want the letters. And I want… what you promised me."

" _Hey, now, I didn't promise you anything,_ " Hans warned, his voice teetering. " _I offered you a deal, which you've yet to accept._ "

She couldn't endure his torment any longer. "Give me what I want, and maybe I'll consider your little deal."

Hans snorted. " _No can do, Princess. You don't get to bargain with me here. That's not how this works._ "

"It is now," Elsa snapped. "You have a lot more to gain here than I do. Which also means that you have a _lot_ more to lose. I can walk away from this entire thing either way and be no worse for wear. You, on the other hand…"

Silence on the other end. She knew she had struck a chord with him. Hans may have been caught once in his little scheme against Elsa and her sister, but she knew that he wasn't stupid. Quite the contrary, he may have been the cleverest man Elsa had ever had the misfortune of meeting.

" _Okay, I'm listening,_ " he replied at last, albeit begrudgingly.

Elsa sucked in a breath, finding her courage for the proposition she was about to present.

"Come over tonight, and give me what I want. If I'm… _satisfied_ … then… well, I can't promise that I can drop all of the charges against you altogether, but maybe we can suggest a plea deal to drop some of the lesser charges and reduce the prison time and fines that you're facing."

A beat passed as Hans considered her proposal.

" _And if you aren't… satisfied?_ " he inquired.

"What, you're not confident that I absolutely will be?"

Elsa was caught off guard at hearing the sultry tone of her own voice. _Am I flirting?_

A laugh on the other end. " _I just know how picky you can be, Princess._ "

"Well, let's just say that if tonight doesn't fully meet my expectations, at least you got one last romp before getting locked away for five-to-ten years. I hear they don't allow conjugal visits up at state."

 _Did I really just say that? Kill me._

" _If they_ did _allow them, would you visit me?_ "

Elsa ignored his snarky remark.

"Tonight." She repeated. Then, as an afterthought: "And don't forget to bring those letters."

She didn't wait for Hans to respond before disconnecting the call.


	8. Chapter 8

_I am not ashamed anymore_

 _I want something so impure_

 _You better impress now_

 _Watching my dress now_

 _Fall to the floor_

 _Halsey, "Not Afraid Anymore"_

–

Precisely one minute after the clock struck ten, a series of knocks sounded from Elsa's front door.

Bracing herself, she smoothed out her dress– a casual, fitted black number, with sleeves long enough that the edges of them disappeared beneath the hems of her black gloves– and walked towards the door. She gave her silvery chignon a pat as she made her way to the foyer, to be sure that none of the meticulously-styled hairs had come out of place.

Elsa knew that it didn't matter whether she looked "sexy" for him or not, but it was a matter of principle to her; if she was going to sell her soul, then she was going to look damn posh doing it.

But she knew that it wasn't too late. She could turn him away yet, tell him to get lost, send him away for good; although, she _had_ already committed to this night with Hans, with the hopes of purging him from her system and breaking the cycle of power that he held over her libido once and for all, and it seemed nearly impossible to renege on that commitment now. Her body– and mind– wouldn't allow it.

She opened the door to find Hans waiting on her stoop, hands in his pockets, and he smiled a devilish smile upon seeing her. Any remaining resolve she had managed to hold onto crumbled immediately upon seeing him flash his pearly white teeth; he was handsome enough to melt ice.

He was dressed as similarly as he had been the last time he had come over with the intent to ravage her; black sneakers, dark-washed jeans, a dove-gray tee with a pointed neckline (revealing the tiniest amount of curly chest hairs as they peaked over the top), and a black moto jacket. His auburn hair was already a bit tousled, making him look enticingly disheveled, but Elsa attributed it to the wind, instead of some innate power that Hans was endowed with that allowed him to appear disarmingly attractive at all times.

"Evening," he greeted, taking a step forward without waiting for an invitation. "Might I come in?"

Elsa stepped aside to let him pass. She didn't even have to remind him about his shoes; he removed them as soon as he had crossed the threshold and placed them carefully on the mat. She moved to close and lock the door, and turned back around to find herself pinned against it, with Hans's hands flat on the door beside either side of her head, his arms effectively trapping her between them. He leaned forward, his green eyes practically glowing with intent in the lowlight of the foyer.

Oh, God, he was going to kiss her.

Panic crept into Elsa's blood; she was frozen to the spot, unable to move or find her voice. At the very last moment, Elsa turned her head to the side, dodging his lips.

"No kissing," she instructed.

Hans shrugged and backed off; it didn't matter either way to him.

"Where's your bedroom?" he asked, glancing around the dark house. "Unless you'd rather do it on the couch."

Elsa swallowed. "Upstairs."

"After you, Your Highness," he joked, gesturing with an arm towards the stairs. Holding her head high, Elsa made her way to the stairway and began to climb, hearing the telltale pads of Hans's own heavy step behind her, confirming that he was indeed following her.

Upon reaching her bedroom, Elsa made her way to the side of the bed to kick off her house slippers and pull back the blue linen covers, allowing Hans a moment to take everything in; it was a simple, airy room, with a wooden floor and a Queen-sized bed sticking out into the middle, flanked on either side by matching white nightstands. On the wall opposite of the bed was a long, low dresser, upon which sat a small metallic jewelry box. There were (what Hans presumed to be) French doors leading to the balcony on the other end of the room, but they were hidden behind layers of blinds and the royal blue velvet curtains that had been drawn; they blocked out just enough light pollution to keep the room shrouded in darkness, but let in just enough of a hazy glow that, as Hans's eyes adjusted to the light, he could see the outline of Elsa's figure standing in front of the bed, staring at him.

"Should I–" she twisted her gloved hands in front of herself, unsure. "Should I turn on a light? Or…"

Wordlessly, Hans flicked on the light switch beside the door and grinned; it instantly flooded the bedroom in warm lamplight. Elsa winced, but he wasn't sure if it was from the light, or from seeing him focused solely on her.

If she was truly going to allow him to have his way with her, then he was going to be sure that he'd be able to see _everything_.

"I'd have thought that someone of your financial status would spring for a King-sized bed," Hans mused as he took a step forward into the room.

Elsa brought her arms up to hold herself, squeezing her hands to her covered shoulders. "I don't sleep well with the extra space."

She watched as Hans pulled his jacket off and slung it to his feet without a care. She tried not to think about how many microscopic outside contaminants he had just contaminated her floor with; she could always vacuum and mop it up later.

Instead, she focused on the way that his lean arms rippled softly beneath the surface with barely-there sinew, bulging slightly at the point where his shoulders were capped by the short, form-fitting sleeves of his shirt. Her breath hitched in her throat at catching herself admiring him.

"So," he started, clapping his hands together. "How do you wanna do this?"

Elsa arched an eyebrow. "I thought that _you_ were the one taking the lead in all of this."

"Is that what you want?"

She swallowed thickly, unanswering.

"Let me rephrase that," he purred, taking another step towards her. "Is that what you _need?_ "

"You know what I need," Elsa whispered. The desire within her warred with her hatred for him, fighting for dominance.

"Tell me." Hans licked his lips salaciously. "I want to hear you say it."

His green eyes bore into her blues, and Elsa trembled beneath his gaze.

"I want you to… to do… what we talked about."

Hans gave her a cross look. "You'll have to do better than that, Princess."

Elsa wavered. "I can't."

"You can," he murmured, daring to reach up to brush his knuckles along her cheek. "And you will."

She could have melted into a steaming puddle right then and there; hot and trembling and long overdue for the release that she craved, trapped between the heat of his body and the bed behind her, hearing the command in his voice– Elsa felt her sex begin to weep in anticipation, her blood turning to molten nectar within her veins.

"I want…" She looked down at her feet in shame. "I want you to take me."

"Take you where?" Hans asked innocently, raising a single puzzled brow.

Elsa inhaled sharply. "I want you to… _fuck_ me."

 _There. I said it._

She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling her face flush from the humiliation of saying such a thing out loud.

She waited. Seconds passed. The Brookstone alarm clock beside her bed changed the minute. But Hans didn't move.

Opening her eyes, Elsa looked up into his face to see him scowling.

"What?"

"You didn't say 'please.'"

Elsa's jaw went slack. "I…"

Hans sighed. "If you want me to leave, then I'll leave."

He made as though to walk out, even reaching down to pick up his jacket from the floor. She almost let him, too, but the boiling in her womb had reached a fever pitch that she was desperate to cool. It overrode her senses until she could think of nothing but the animalistic need that raged within her, swallowing her consciousness whole.

"No, no." Elsa steeled her will. "Hans, please fuck me. Please."

A mischievous glint flashed across Hans's irises, flecking them with gold. "I'd be more than happy to oblige."

In a purposeful movement, Hans whipped around to face his platinum-haired prey before advancing on her, gently pushing Elsa backwards until the back of her knees hit the edge of the bed, causing her to collapse down onto it. He crawled on top of her, resting his knee between her thighs, and made quick work of removing his shirt.

"I thought we were going to shower first," Elsa gasped out.

"I showered before I came here. Did you?"

Elsa shook her head; she hadn't showered since the morning and felt filthy, despite the fact that she hadn't sweat or done anything extraneous out of doors that day.

"Oh well. You've already asked me to fuck you."

She caught a glimpse of Hans's chest– from the smattering of fine hairs across his muscular chest, down to where his waist narrowed and the hair thickened before disappearing into the waistband of his pants– before he leaned forward to press his lips to the hollow of her neck.

"Oh!"

Elsa cried out at the unexpected sensation, never knowing how sensitive the skin of her neck could be. Hans trailed his lips, leaving scorching marks wherever he went, suckling each subsequent plot of virgin skin harder than the last, stopping when he reached the neckline of her dress where it sat at her collarbone. When he pulled away, Elsa felt the coolness of the air on her skin and realized that her neck was damp with saliva.

 _His_ saliva.

A brief panic overtook her– he had just deposited an unfathomable amount of _bacteria_ on her _flesh_ – but the panic was quickly overtaken by a warmth blossoming from her womb, brought on by Hans's hands slipping beneath the hem of her dress and pushing upward. He pushed it up until the material bunched at the top of her chest, revealing her bare breasts and body to him.

Elsa couldn't be sure that it wasn't just a trick of the light, but Hans seemed to pause at the sight of her.

 _What is it?_ Elsa wondered fretfully. _Am I too pale? Too thin? I must be hideous to him._

Hans seemed to snap out of whatever was afflicting him and glanced at Elsa's face to catch her staring at him, her eyes wide.

"You're not wearing a bra or panties." It was something between a question and a statement.

That's _what caught him off-guard?_

Elsa's fair cheeks flushed ever pinker. "I knew you were coming and figured that they would just get in the way. Plus, no need to soil a clean pair for no reason…"

With a growl, Hans returned his mouth to her flesh, reaching up with a hand to massage the mound of her breast while the other planted itself firmly on her thigh, his fingers digging into the flesh there. Elsa's own small hands were busy gripping the sheets beneath her.

His mouth moved to the mound that wasn't currently occupied with his hand, taking the rosy nipple into his mouth and causing Elsa to let out a hiss between her clenched teeth. He lathed the puffy areola with his tongue for a minute, before biting down lightly on the hardened nub. A choked gasp escaped from between Elsa's lips; it was a pleasurable pain, and she found herself waiting for the moment that he would do it again.

Luckily, she didn't have to wait long, as he repeated the action once, and then twice, before moving on to lavish his attentions on her other breast. Elsa's breathing was staggered now, coming in pants as she squirmed on top of the bed; as good as his ministrations of her breasts felt– and they felt _damn_ good– the unattended need at the apex of her thighs was starting to get uncomfortable.

As though he sensed her discomfort, Hans released her nipple from his mouth with a _pop_ and stole a glance in her direction. She was watching him curiously, with heavily-lidded eyes, her normally clear turquoise irises cloudy with lust and her lips parted from the effort of her breathing. Smiling to himself, he dragged his tongue downward, past her breasts, stopping every so often to mar the perfect, creamy flesh of her abdomen with another hickey, reveling in the way that she gasped and mewled with each one.

It took Elsa too long to realize– as his tongue moved lower and lower without stopping– what he intended to do.

"Wait, wait," she breathed out, propping herself up on her elbows to look at him. "You didn't say anything about _that_ on the phone."

Hans peered up at her, his mouth tantalizingly close to her exposed womanhood. She could feel his exhales ghost across the aroused flesh and shivered.

"Do you want me to stop?"

 _No,_ she heard herself answer in her head; it shocked her to find that she wanted him to continue. _No, I don't want him to stop._

Without waiting for her to confirm or deny, Hans smirked.

"Too bad, because I won't stop until you're begging me to."

His tongue darted out then, flicking at her sensitive bud, and Elsa gasped. Without sparing another moment, Hans dove in eagerly, swiping his tongue up her slit in one broad, languid stroke that caused Elsa to keen and fall back to the bed.

He continued eating his fill of her, bathing her engorged lips with his tongue until his spit and her own natural juices mixed into one, trickling down his chin in a shiny stream of arousal; she tasted incredible.

"Did you clean up just for me?" Hans teased, passing a finger over the neatly trimmed pubic hair that sat above her sex. He traced his fingertip down to her clit and rubbed lightly beside the hood, causing Elsa's back to rise off the bed. He quickly replaced his finger with his mouth, pressing the bundle of nerves between his lips and sucking as his finger pushed into her opening instead; for the first time in her life, a genuine, wanton moan was ripped from the back of Elsa's throat.

The sound was like music to Hans's ears.

He increased his speed, thrusting his finger in and out of her at a rhythmic pace; he could feel the way her inner walls clamped around him and knew that she must be getting close to the edge. Hell, he was shocked that she had even lasted this long after how much torturous teasing she had endured since the past Friday.

When the heels of Elsa's feet dug into the mattress and her moans heightened in pitch, Hans added a second finger and reached a frenzied speed, his mouth and tongue still working diligently at her pearl to bring her to orgasm. It was becoming more and more difficult to focus with his own hardened arousal straining against his jeans, but he knew that he'd get his own soon enough.

Suddenly, Elsa's hand reached down, gripping Hans's shoulder. She felt something coming and wasn't sure if she was ready for it.

"Hans," she choked. "Hans– I–"

She was cut off by the wail that burst forth from the depths of her diaphragm, announcing the climax that ruptured outward from her womb in waves, shaking her body over and over again in shocks of ecstasy. It was divine, like nothing she had ever experienced before. She continued twitching for some time after, even as Hans ceased his work and her body gradually came down from her high, leaving her dazed yet sated.

Hans stood and removed a metallic square from the pocket of his pants before unbuckling his belt to take them off, kicking the offending garment to a corner of the room. His throbbing member stood at attention, jutting out towards Elsa, and– despite what Hans had just done to her– she felt the urge to avert her eyes at the impropriety of it all.

Rather, she watched hazily from her spot on the bed as Hans tore open the tiny package and removed the condom, placing it on his erection and rolling it down until his entire cock was sheathed in lime green from base to tip.

Birth control. Elsa hadn't even thought of it; she wasn't on the pill or any other method, and so she was grateful for Hans's foresight. Not to mention that condoms were sterile, which was definitely a bonus.

Although her body was still primed, she wondered how easily he'd be able to fit inside her; judging by the size of his hardness, she could probably stack both of her fists on top of it and still see the head, and she wasn't even sure if her fingertips would touch if she wrapped a hand around it.

Hans crawled back on top of Elsa's body, her limbs loose and her eyelids heavy from the effects of her orgasm, and he chuckled.

"Seems like I've satisfied you enough to drop the charges already, and we haven't even started the fun part."

Elsa blinked her eyes slowly. "I told you already, Hans– I can't drop the charges."

"Oh, but you can."

Her brow furrowed. "No, I can't."

"Don't tell me you're going back on our deal, now." Hans aligned himself with her opening and pushed forward slightly, wetting the tip and causing Elsa to shudder.

"That wasn't our deal," Elsa mumbled, feeling her body's response to the promise of a hard arousal inside of her; she felt her desire start building once more.

"Oh, and what was our deal?" Hans pushed in a little further, burying the head of his cock inside of her pulsing warmth. "I fuck you to satisfaction, and then you drop the charges."

Elsa bit back a moan as he inched deeper inside of her. "I said… that I'd try… to drop _some_ of the charges."

"Well, now seems as good a time as ever to renegotiate." Hans retracted slightly.

Elsa groaned and covered her face with an arm. "Can we not talk about this right now?"

"Fine, we'll table this discussion for later."

With a single thrust of his hips, Hans was inside of her to the hilt, and Elsa was quickly surprised to find that it didn't feel good at all; it _hurt_. Not only was he stretching her too tightly, well past her body's apparent limits, but she felt a painful pinching coming from within that began to burn almost immediately, making her feel as though she were being torn in half.

 _This isn't worth it._

"No–"

 _I can't sell my soul for this._

Elsa pushed against Hans's bare chest, her hands slipping against his sweat. "Get off of me! No!"

She'd heard before that the first time might be painful, but this was _unbearable_ – not at all comparable to the pleasurable sensations she had been feeling mere minutes earlier. Not even close.

Hans recovered instantly, withdrawing from her tightness in one stroke. Elsa shrieked as the movement only exacerbated the pain, wishing for nothing more than to curl up and cry.

"Fuck," Hans hissed, kneeling down in front of her to inspect the damage. "I should have gone slower. I thought that you were ready."

Shakily, Elsa sat up to look down at herself, and saw the blood that streaked across the sheets and along her inner thighs; the bright red sight of it sent her spiraling into panic mode.

When Hans reached towards her, she scrambled backwards on the bed.

"Leave me alone, you've done enough," she snapped, struggling to gulp in swaths of air through the attack clenching her lungs like a fist.

Hans's expression appeared remorseful. "Let me at least get you a towel or something."

"Fuck you!"

"Whoa, don't take this out on me just because you have your own fucking issues. You're the one who called me here. You wanted this."

"Only because you made me desperate!"

Hans rolled his eyes, throwing his arms up in disbelief.

"Seriously? The Queen of Self-Control is blaming _me_ for the choices that _she made_ that led to us both being here?" He scoffed. "If anything, we're both to blame, because we both played a part in this. But you want to make me out to be the bad guy _so badly–_ "

"You _are_ the bad guy!" Elsa near-shouted. "You got yourself into this whole legal mess, and _I_ won't be the one to get you out, no matter what kind of games you keep trying to play with me!"

Hans stared at her, dumbfounded, and the need to cry surged forth until Elsa was blinded by the tears that filled her eyes.

"Just leave me alone," she sniffed, feeling the fight leave her body. Maybe he was right– maybe she was trying to be absolved of any blame, and that's why she was picking a fight; because she _was_ guilty. But she knew, deep down, that she had fully wanted this– and perhaps she had wanted it long before Hans had ever proposed it.

Hans sighed and rubbed a hand over his face; reaching up, he slicked his sweat-dampened hair away from his forehead. He seemed to contemplate for a moment, before clapping both hands together and raising them in defeat.

"You know what? Forget the fucking deal."

He haphazardly threw on his pants, before angrily snatching up his shirt and jacket from the floor and storming out of the room; Elsa listened to his footfalls as they went down the stairs, to the foyer, and out the door– which he closed with a _slam_.

It was then, and only then, that Elsa allowed herself to cry.


	9. Chapter 9

_When do I see it?_

 _When do I understand this better?_

 _After the ashes_

 _When will the pieces come together?_

 _I think it's when I lose control_

 _Colony House, "Lose Control"_

–

There wasn't enough hot water in the world to wash Hans from her skin.

Elsa called in sick to work the following day, after sleeping fitfully following her regretful rendezvous with the man who wouldn't leave her thoughts; his touch was seared into her flesh, evident by the mouth-shaped bruises he had left along her neck and breasts. Walking was painful, as she was still sore, and using the facilities was even worse. As much as she wanted to stay home, locked inside of her bathroom, scrubbing her skin until it was red and raw, she knew from years of dealing with her demons that going outside would do her some good– anything to distract from ruminating too thoroughly on what had happened with Hans. Although he had brought her to orgasm, she found herself inexplicably craving _more;_ they hadn't finished the evening properly, and so she had to focus on purging him from her system through sheer force of will alone.

What better way to do so than to resume her daily life with some semblance of normalcy?

Thankfully, it wasn't unusual for Elsa to often wear turtlenecks, and since a cold snap had taken the daily temperature from the 30's and 40's straight down to below freezing, she was able to cover her hickeys with ease when she went out shopping that day.

She drove to the department store where she knew that Anna's baby shower was registered and parked in the attached garage; upon entering the gigantic, marble building, she went straight to the customer service desk, where a green-eyed, golden-haired young lady was waiting with a smile to assist her. Elsa surmised that she couldn't have been older than sixteen or seventeen, and she wondered briefly why she wasn't in school.

 _Must be on some kind of winter break._

"Good morning," she greeted, beaming. "My name is Rapunzel. What can I help you with today?"

"Hello. My sister's baby shower is this Saturday, and I still need to buy her a gift."

"Is she registered with us?"

"I believe so."

"Alrighty," the girl squeaked gleefully. "Let's check and see if she's in our system. Her name?"

"Anna Arendelle." Elsa shook her head before correcting herself. "Sorry, hard to break the habit. She's Anna Bjorgman now."

The young girl's eyes flickered with recognition as she typed into her computer.

"I recognize that name," she hummed. Then, as an aside: "I read a _lot_ of books. Your company has published some of my all-time faves."

Elsa smiled and nodded politely.

A few more taps on the keyboard and the screen flashed.

"Okay, so," Rapunzel started, scowling slightly. "It looks as though everything on the register has been bought up, except for one thing."

She turned her monitor so that Elsa could see; the only gift that hadn't been purchased yet was a gaudily luxurious baby buggy, with a price tag well into the range of four figures. Naturally, it also happened to be the most expensive item on the entire registry. Elsa wasn't surprised that it hadn't been scooped up yet.

"Would you like me to show you where it is?" Rapunzel piped up helpfully.

Elsa nodded. "Please."

"Of course!"

The girl rounded the counter and motioned for Elsa to follow her as she made her way to the other end of the store.

It was then that something caught Elsa's attention; it wasn't something, but rather– _someone_. She could see him out of the corner of her eye, that reddish hair and those undeniable green eyes, watching her, smiling at her.

Elsa's heart missed a beat. _Why is he here? Did he follow me?_

Daring to turn her head, Elsa looked straight into Hans's eyes, only to realize that he was– a mannequin.

Elsa blinked, as though she still somehow expected to see Hans appear, but the mannequin remained.

 _I'm really losing it._

She sighed and shook her head.

"I, um, also need to buy some new bed sheets while I'm here, if you wouldn't mind pointing me in the right direction."

She had always had demons, but now they had a face.

–

The remainder of the week passed without incident. Returning to the office the hadn't be easy, but after catching up on most of the work she had missed by the time Friday rolled around, Elsa breathed out a sigh of relief; work was familiar. Work was safe.

Work kept her busy, so that she didn't have to think about Hans nearly as frequently as she had been.

Anna's baby shower went off without a hitch. After arriving early on Saturday morning to help set up, dousing the venue in lavender ribbons and metallic balloons, Elsa had aided her sister and brother-in-law in directing guests to their proper seats, as well as arranging and rearranging the gift table multiple times until it was set to her liking. Elsa's own gift had been impeccably wrapped and delivered from the department store the evening before, and it sat beside the table in all of its purple-and-silver glory. The venue was a historical ballroom of sorts, with floor-to-ceiling French-paned windows that wrapped around the entire room, allowing perfect scenic views of the snowy city outside.

After the last of the guests had arrived and taken their seats, filling the room with the din and chatter of conversation, Anna wrapped her older sister up in a grateful hug.

"Thanks for all of your help, Elsa. I couldn't have handled all of this without you."

Elsa tried to ignore the stab of guilt that pierced her like a knife.

"I'm sure you would've been fine," she replied warily. "Kristoff can handle enough work for the two of us."

Anna pulled back, looking her sister directly in the eyes, blue meeting blue.

"He's been so busy with our event management business that the last thing he needed was to worry about all of… this." Anna gestured around her. "Besides, all of the hard work is finally paying off– we've gotten our first high-profile client, with more on the way. I'm sure that someday we'll even plan _your_ wedding."

Elsa snorted. "Yeah, when Hell freezes over."

The redhead only shrugged. "It _is_ snowing outside."

As the party reached its height with a game of "Baby Shower Bingo," hosted by the women who had been Anna's bridesmaids at her wedding almost a year earlier, Elsa found herself relaxing at last at a table in the back of the room, alone with an untouched slice of cake.

Her phone buzzed. Reaching into her purse, Elsa pulled it out, curious as to who or what would be contacting her right now– almost everyone she knew both personally and professionally was currently attending Anna's baby shower.

Her stomach fell like a rock into the pit of her abdomen at seeing Hans's name on her screen.

 _Feeling better?_

How _dare_ he text her. Elsa knew that she should just ignore it and not let him ruin the celebration, but her brain immediately conjured up lurid images of their evening together; his hands on her body, his lips on her neck, his mouth and fingers creating a fire in her core that she had never believed possible.

Another message came through shortly after: _Just wanted to make sure that you're okay after what happened._

She couldn't be sure this wasn't another mind game, another attempt at stirring her emotions and making her vulnerable enough to allow him into her good graces again.

Pissed, Elsa tapped out her response with both thumbs. _Lose my number._

Hans seemed to accept defeat; his next text was neither inflammatory nor argumentative, but even Elsa could detect the snark hidden between those unassuming letters.

 _Give the mother-to-be my best._

Not trusting Hans to avoid contacting her again– or perhaps she didn't trust herself– Elsa went into her phone's settings and blocked his number, before shutting the device off and throwing it back into her purse.

From the front of the room came the roar of the group of ladies as they erupted into cheers; it appeared that somebody had won the game of Bingo, and the winner had selected a gift basket full of wine and imported cheeses as her prize. It was imperceptible to anyone else, but when Anna shot Kristoff the tiniest hint of a smile after he handed over the basket, and he smiled back– so sure and full of devotion– as he placed a masculine hand over the bulbous front of her dress, Elsa shrank back in her seat and took another sip from her glass of champagne.

Maybe Elsa wanted that same kind of relationship for herself someday after all.


	10. Chapter 10

If we don't bend, then this might break

Please don't give into this pain

Just keep on counting down the days

And dream of me to keep you safe

Pvris, "Only Love"

–

After only a few days had passed since she had last heard from Hans, everything in Elsa's life seemed to have returned to normal. Or rather, a relative type of normal. Elsa's version of normal.

Wednesday morning came and went as it usually did. At a quarter to noon, Elsa locked up her office and put on her coat; she had a scheduled lunch meeting with Arendelle Publishing's legal department to brush up on the details of the case against Hans Westergaard and the strategies they would utilize in court. Elsa could hardly believe that it was less than a month away already. Whereas she had never looked forward to having to appear in court, she now direly dreaded it; she had to remind herself that Hans deserved whatever he got.

The legal team had chosen a less-than-upscale dining establishment for their meeting, located six blocks outside of Arendelle Publishing's normal radius, so as to decrease their chances of running into anyone from within their own personal and professional circles. It was still a nice place, dimly lit with wood-paneled walls and Tiffany lamps dangling above each table and booth, but definitely not somewhere that Elsa would have chosen herself.

Not that Elsa planned on ordering anything, anyway; she had already eaten her own self-prepared lunch at her desk.

The lawyer that sat to her right, however, seemed keen on remedying that.

"Take a look," he insisted, handing Elsa a menu as she placed her napkin in her lap. "You never know, maybe they have something you'd like to try."

She knew for a fact that there couldn't possibly be anything that she would find even remotely appetizing on the menu, but some people mistook her condition as her simply being a picky eater. Biting back the urge to groan, Elsa accepted the menu with a grimace; it was easy enough to do and got him to shut up, anyway.

As her eyes darted back and forth across the black-on-white, reading the text without really processing it, a movement just above the top of the menu caught her eye's attention. Instinctively, she flicked her gaze upward and was shocked to see a familiar face watching her from where he stood across the dining room, next to the bar.

It wasn't a mannequin this time; it was Hans Westergaard himself– the very topic of their current conversation– in the flesh.

He watched her for only a second longer, before spinning on his heel and disappearing into the bathroom.

Elsa's blood began to boil; it was apparent that he had followed her there. No doubt that he had been keeping tabs on her as of late, even after calling off their arrangement. Despite the rage that bubbled up inside of her, there was something else; a cocktail of regret and desire that caused a throbbing to begin at the spot between her thighs just at the sight of him. As much as she wanted to forget their intimacy together, her body remembered it all too well.

"Excuse me," Elsa mumbled, throwing her napkin from her lap onto the tabletop as she stood and scraped her chair back, trying her best to walk to the bathroom at the back of the restaurant as calmly as possible. She wouldn't be intimidated by his presence this time; she was going to give Hans a piece of her mind once and for all. How could she move on from their little tryst and resume her life if he kept popping up like this?

In hindsight, she should have knocked, just in case she was hallucinating (again). Rather, Elsa determinedly threw open the door to the single-stall unisex restroom and let herself in, her heart falling to her toes when she found herself alone in the tiny room with Hans. The door closed automatically behind her with a muffled click and they locked eyes.

"Are you stalking me?" she accused angrily, jabbing a green-gloved finger into the front of Hans's long-sleeved tee. "How dare you. You're not even supposed to be within a hundred feet of either me or my sister. I should be calling the police."

Hans sighed, but his expression betrayed his amusement. "Go ahead and call them. Have fun explaining to the officers when they arrive that you intentionally came here, to my place of employment, of your own volition."

"I…" Elsa opened and closed her mouth a few times. "Uhhh, I what?"

"I work here," Hans replied dryly. "It became a bit tougher to pay the bills after… you know. So, I had to take on a second job."

Elsa noticed at last that, below Hans's stained white shirt, he had an equally spotted white apron tied around his waist.

"You have… two jobs?"

"I had a third, working at an overnight diner in the Bronx, but they fired me as soon as they found out about the pending case against me." Hans shrugged. "Luckily, the owner of this place knew my father back in the day, so he let me stay on the payroll as a dishwasher."

"Well… that's kind of him," Elsa replied awkwardly. "I'm sorry, I honestly didn't know that you worked here."

Her mind spun with all kinds of new questions about her sister's ex-fiancé; he had always seemed so suave, so put-together, that Elsa had never even considered that he would be in dire financial straits in the fallout of his grand scheme to steal Anna's money. But the more she thought about it, the more it made sense, and a feeling akin to pity began to creep into her heart.

"Yeah," Hans mumbled, scratching the back of his neck. "He knows how hard it's been since…"

Elsa tilted her head, scanning his face. "Since what?"

"Nothing. Forget it." Hans inhaled deeply. "So, what brings you here if not to see me?"

The usual flirtatiousness had returned to his voice.

"Meeting." Elsa paled. "With Arendelle's lawyers."

He might as well know, she assured herself. It's not like it changes anything, anyway.

"Ah." Hans nodded; he understood completely. The tiniest sliver of fire flashed across his irises.

"Are you sure that I can't still convince you?"

He grinned a delicious grin, baring his teeth, and reached forward to tug on Elsa's collar. Truth be told, being this close to him again had already put her body on edge, her womb warming and tightening in anticipation of another romp. When his fingers danced down to her stocking-clad thigh, tickling the skin there to make their way under her skirt, Elsa had to suck in a breath.

"Yes, I'm sure." She brushed his hand away, but the move was reluctant. In response, Hans leaned in closer, his lips mere inches from her own, close enough to kiss; Elsa was surprised to realize that she wanted to close the gap between them.

"Because I'm the bad guy, right?" He was teasing, but she could detect the anomaly in his tone; it almost sounded like sadness.

Rather than stay and answer him, Elsa turned and put her hand on the doorknob before she ended up doing something that she'd regret; her lust-filled mind was already dreaming up all the ways that he could bend her over the sink and fuck her senseless. Even her panties had already dampened significantly.

Get ahold of yourself, Elsa inwardly scolded. You've already been away from the table too long. It's going to look suspicious if you don't get back soon. This has to end. Now.

"We can't be in contact anymore." Elsa swallowed with difficulty as she spoke towards the door. "I'm going to go now. Wait a few minutes before you leave so as not to be noticed. And… good luck with everything from here on out."

If Hans nodded his agreement, she didn't see it, but only kept her back to him as she cracked the door open wide enough to slip out, returning to her table with a forced smile plastered across her face.

Nothing seemed amiss as she took her seat; the lawyers around her were too preoccupied with discussing which questions they should prepare Anna for when it came time to examine her on the stand to notice how long Elsa had been away.

She glanced up in time to see Hans leave the bathroom shortly after. When he made a beeline for the kitchen without so much as a glance in her direction, Elsa had to remind herself not to take it personally; this was for her own good, as well as his. But somehow, someway, in the darkest corner of her heart, it still pained her to know that her time with Hans– however brief and stressful and wrong it may have been– had finally come to an end.


	11. Chapter 11

_We put a crack in the shadows_

 _And you tell me it's okay to be the light_

 _Hailee Steinfeld, "Capital Letters"_

–

The chilly February night air felt harsher than usual on Hans's exposed face as he made his way down the darkened street of his Brooklyn neighborhood. The biting wind nipped at him relentlessly, reddening his nose and cheeks until the flesh was raw and numb; tiny snowflakes had begun to fall, and Hans readjusted his royal purple scarf around his neck before shoving his gloved hands deep into his coat pockets. He rounded a corner onto a street that was awash in lamplight, making his way to a dingy little bar in the middle of the block. An illuminated sign above the old wooden door read "Sitron's."

Hans shouldered the heavy door open and stepped inside, the warmth from within enveloping him immediately, although he didn't remove his gray wool coat right away. Rather, he stepped over to the bar and took a seat on one of the stools, removing his gloves and shoving them into a pocket as he did so. He didn't plan on staying long.

The bar was dimly lit and void of any patrons, save for an older gentleman nursing a beer in a booth in the corner. Soft jazz music filled the air from the old jukebox– the classic kind that still used vinyl records instead of CDs or digital tracks– and Hans took a moment to appreciate it; it had been awhile since he'd heard its soothing tunes. A moment later, a man emerged from the back of the house, taking his place behind the bar with a clean dish towel in his grip. He was the same age as Hans, but taller, with darker skin and brown eyes. His bald head shone in the light that reflected off of the mirrored walls behind the shelves of booze. When he spoke, his voice was a deep baritone that reverberated from his chest.

"Hans Westergaard." He said his name with a smile. "Been awhile since I've seen you in my bar. Not since before you went prancing around Manhattan with that little heiress of yours."

"Sitron, it's been awhile," Hans greeted the man coolly in return, smirking. "A whiskey. On the rocks."

"Bottom shelf alright for you?"

Hans nodded.

Sitron set to work, procuring a rocks glass from beneath the bar top and filling it with ice. He chose a nondescript bottle of whiskey from one of the shelves behind him and filled the glass nearly to the brim with amber liquid, placing it before Hans with a friendly grin.

"A double, on the house."

"Thanks," Hans muttered gratefully before lifting the glass to his lips to take a sip; the cheap alcohol burned and sizzled on its way down his throat, settling like fire in his belly. It felt good after the night he'd had.

"How's your mom?" Sitron inquired conversationally as he poured a glass for himself.

"I just got back from the hospital," Hans replied, reaching for his glass to take another sip. "They want to keep her longer this time."

"And your dad?"

"Dead." When Sitron shot him a look of concern, Hans shook his head. "To me, at least."

The bartender nodded in a way that said, " _I understand,_ " but he didn't say anything of the sort.

"I'm guessing your brothers are still long gone."

Hans shrugged. "Last I heard, Caleb moved back to New York with his wife and kids, but I haven't seen him. The other eleven are still scattered coast-to-coast. Still living pretty off of Daddy's money, I'm sure."

A look of sadness crept into Sitron's coffee-colored features. "You really don't speak to them, huh?"

"Well, it's not like they ever spoke to me," Hans stated darkly, taking a final swig of his whiskey, finishing the glass. Sitron obliged with a refill without needing to be prompted, and Hans gestured his appreciation by raising the glass to take another lengthy sip.

"Family is family," Sitron offered as he topped off his own glass.

"Half-family," Hans corrected him; he tried to contain the bitterness in his tone, but somehow it still got out. He had come to terms with his familial situation years ago, but sometimes he still felt like a lonely little boy, longing for a father or a brother to talk to.

"Still blood." Sitron downed the rest of his drink. Hans followed suit.

"Doesn't matter," Hans mumbled. He noticed that his speech had begun to slur and his stomach churned with heat. That didn't stop the bartender from refilling his glass a third time.

Hans was eager to turn the conversation away from himself and his family– or lack thereof. "What about you? What have you been up to all these years? Are you still with what's-his-face?"

Sitron laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

"Nah, me and Kjekk went our separate ways some time ago."

Hans sipped on his drink and tried his best to appear intrigued. "What happened?"

The man lifted and dropped his shoulders.

"Sometimes it's just not meant to be." His expression turned pensive. "Like you and your little heiress."

A rare wave of shame washed over Hans at Sitron's insinuation. It was obvious that he must have known about Hans's devious, legally-questionable machinations; although Arendelle Publishing and Weselton House had both tried to lock down the scandal as much as possible, word had gotten out quickly and publicly than Anna Arendelle's former fiancé had been behind the breach. Hans was now a known possible-criminal amongst all of New York's upper crust and probably most of the country's elite class, innocent only until proven guilty.

"If I may offer some advice?"

Hans nodded, albeit hesitantly.

Sitron pushed his own unfinished whiskey to the side, leaning forward on the counter, supporting his weight on his elbows. He looked directly into Hans's eyes, brown gazing into green. Even when leaning, he was still an entire head taller than the russet-haired man.

"Do the right thing," he started, sternly yet affectionately. "I know you're used to getting into trouble, because you think you need to scam and sleaze your way through this world to make it. But you don't."

"That's what my father did, and it seems to be working out for him," Hans mumbled, polishing off the remainder of his whiskey with a sigh before clinking the glass back down on the bar top. "He is a millionaire, after all."

"You are not your father. Just because he did some bad things, it doesn't mean that you need to do the same. Your father is a bad man. _You_ are _not_ a bad man."

Hans pursed his lips at his friend's words; since he had grown up without a father figure, he had never taken well to being spoken to in such a way, but he tried to mask his stubbornness and show that he was paying attention.

"You're not a bad guy," Sitron affirmed once more as he straightened up. "Be better than your father and do the right thing. Always. Even when there's nothing in it for you."

Hans averted his gaze; his pride wouldn't allow him to acknowledge his friend's lesson.

"I should go," he said instead, rising from his seat. He stumbled momentarily, tripping over his own feet, and his arms flailed outward to try to catch himself; he missed, and caught the side of his eye on the ledge of the bar before going down, landing on his hands and knees. Pain blossomed behind his skull, and he felt the undeniable warm trickle of blood tickling the top of his cheek from where his face had made contact with the bar.

Before Hans could register what had happened, strong arms were lifting him up, placing him back on the bar stool. When Hans looked up, he found himself staring dazedly into Sitron's grimacing face.

"Let me call you a cab."

Finally realizing the severity of his drunkenness, Hans acquiesced, and Sitron disappeared to make the call. Sighing, Hans buried his face in his hands and rested it on the bar, doing his damnedest to focus on anything besides the dizziness that threatened to consume him, lurking just behind his eyeballs.

Sitron's words echoed through his head, and Hans felt himself feeling crappier than he had in a _long_ time– he hadn't felt this bad since he had gotten busted for scamming Anna on the day of their wedding. The look in her eyes had reminded him of his poor mother, but he had refused to take responsibility for his actions. He tried to tell himself that Anna had it coming for being so naive, so desperate for love, but how could he justify that he had gone and done it again– to Elsa?

A guilty pang like a hunger began to tug at his heartstrings. Elsa was business savvy, steadfast, and incredibly intelligent; he had seen seducing her as a challenge, as though she were a safe that needed cracking– she was the safe that safeguarded his freedom from prosecution. Tempting Elsa had been much easier than he had anticipated, and– although their rendezvous had been brief and incomplete– being with her had been one of the hottest flings of his young life. Most women whom Hans had been with intimate with were incredibly guarded, and he had expected more of the same from Elsa, but once her walls were down she was another creature altogether. Her body's reactions to him had been so pure and untethered once she had freed herself from her own inhibitions– she had truly given in to experiencing all that Hans had to offer her, giving herself over to him completely. Total surrender.

Plus, no other woman before bad ever let Hans pleasure them with his mouth, and that had been a divine experience all on its own; he had nearly climaxed himself without even being touched at tasting her sweet essence, drinking her orgasm as it washed over her, feeling the way she involuntarily contracted around his fingers as her body trembled and she gasped out his name.

But, in the end, Elsa had ultimately managed to hold her own and shut out his advances, and he respected her for that. He admired her for standing her ground– among other things he admired about the mysterious elder Arendelle heiress.

And, truth be told, he had found that he wasn't as coldhearted and callous as he had always believed; he could only manipulate the white-haired, blue-eyed beauty so many times before it had begun to take a toll on him, mentally and emotionally.

When the taxi arrived, Hans thanked Sitron and tried to leave a crisp, green bill on the counter to pay for his drinks, but the kindly man only shook his head and stuffed the money back into Hans's hand. They exchanged mutual looks of respect before Hans made his way outside and climbed into the waiting cab, fumbling before closing the door behind himself.

"Where to, sir?" the driver asked. Hans pondered for a second and pressed a hand to his breast, feeling the reassuring crinkle of paper from inside of his coat's inner pocket. He knew where he wanted to go; it was probably a terrible idea, but terrible ideas seemed to be Hans's forte.

"Take me to Manhattan."


	12. Chapter 12

_I wanna ride my bike with you_

 _Fully undressed, no training wheels left for you_

 _I'll pull them off for you_

 _Melanie Martinez, "Training Wheels"_

–

"There," Elsa sighed contentedly, taking a step back to admire her work as she removed her rubber cleaning gloves. She had spent hours scrubbing, sanitizing, and polishing her entire kitchen, spending extra time on the stovetop, and wasn't satisfied until it shone like a model car on display in a showroom.

She could think of no better way to spend a Friday night.

Her rescheduled meeting with the board that day had gone better than expected, with the date set to make a final decision concerning the buyout of Weselton House the following week. It had lifted Elsa's spirits considerably, and she left the office at the end of the day with a pep in her step that had been lacking as of late; life without Hans constantly on the brain was peaceful, and she was grateful for the reprieve, despite the unexplainable emptiness he had somehow left behind.

Which is precisely why it was _extra_ jarring when– as Elsa was washing her hands in the kitchen sink– she heard her doorbell ring. Not once, not twice, not three times, but multiple times in a row, as though somebody were impatiently tapping the button repeatedly, as fast as they possibly could. It took Elsa's relaxed brain mere seconds to switch to panic mode, and almost another full minute to process what was happening. Her first thought was to wonder whether or not she was being robbed, but she figured that any burglar worth their weight in stolen goods wouldn't announce their presence by ringing the bell so ferociously.

"Who the…"

After painstakingly patting her hands dry on a clean hand towel and slipping on a pair of floral-embroidered, aquamarine-colored cotton gloves, Elsa hurried to her front door, dressed in nothing else but a simple, purple house dress and matching slippers. Gazing through the peephole, she saw none other than Hans Westergaard on her doorstep, leaning against the window and focusing all of his energy into ringing her doorbell.

Her heart lurched into her throat at the sight of him and Elsa had to swallow back her earlier dinner of beet soup that threatened to make a reappearance all over the foyer floor. His sudden appearance on her porch was simultaneously exhilarating and terrifying; she knew that she should send him away, but she couldn't– she _wouldn't_. Pulling on her braid to ensure that it was straight and tidy, she steeled herself and opened the door.

" _Oh my–_ Hans!" He stumbled forward into her immediately, catching himself on the doorframe as she held him up as best as she could with both hands pushing against his shoulders. "What the _hell_ are you doing here?"

She could smell the whiskey on his breath, and noticed the way that he appeared unusually disheveled; his gray winter coat was open and falling off of one shoulder, the white t-shirt beneath very obviously wrinkled and stained with what looked like coffee. Even his hair, which was usually styled precariously and with product, seemed to be falling every which way. A thin sheen of perspiration covered the flushed skin of his face.

"This isn't my apartment," Hans offered without much conviction. If it wasn't for the state that he was in, Elsa would have automatically assumed that he was joking, but with Hans she could never be sure.

"What happened? You've obviously been drinking."

"Not as much as the other guy," he slurred.

It was then that she noticed the gash that ran sideways across his cheekbone, slowly oozing scarlet blood.

Elsa gasped. "Did you lose a fight?"

He snorted in response. "One could call it that."

With a groan, Elsa hauled the drunken man forward; once he was inside, she shut the door behind him. Gratefully, he leaned back against it, tilting his head back, and Elsa released her hold on him.

"You should be more careful," Elsa admonished as she reached up to inspect the wound. "If you don't take care of this right away it could get infected–"

Hans snatched her hand by the wrist before she could touch him. "It's nothing. Besides, that's not why I came here."

With a skeptical look, Elsa lowered her hand; Hans let it go.

"Then _why_ are you incessantly ringing my doorbell at midnight on a Friday?" She pressed gloved fingertips to her temple. "I told you to leave me alone. This better not be another attempt to mess with my head, because I'm _done_ playing your games."

Hans shook his head, instantly regretting the motion and wincing when spots appeared in his vision.

"Can I sit down first? Then you can interrogate me all you want, Your Highness."

Elsa acquiesced, helping the drunken man stagger to the kitchen and pulling out a chair at the table for him; he sank heavily into it. She moved to the sink and pulled a clean glass from the cabinet above, filling it with water from the faucet. After placing the drink in front of Hans, she moved back to the sink, this time retrieving a clean towel from the drawer beside the sink and soaking it with the tap, ringing it out to remove excess moisture. She returned to the table and bent forward in front of him, dabbing the wet cloth carefully at his face; the dampness of it was cool and felt incredible on his hot skin, and he found his eyes inadvertently fluttering closed at the sensation.

It had been so long since someone had taken care of him, that Hans almost dreaded the moment that she would speak again. He just wanted to enjoy this moment in time with her just a bit longer, but of course Elsa had questions as to why he had arrived at her door in the middle of the night after they had definitively broken off their arrangement. It was only fair, he supposed.

"So, why _are_ you here, Hans?" she asked with a blonde eyebrow raised, keeping her focus solely on the cut on his cheek as she continued to dab it lightly with the cloth, absorbing most of the semi-dried blood.

He didn't answer; he watched a spot on the whitewashed wooden tabletop with feigned interest, drumming a finger there to the melody of a silent song. The answer to her question was difficult to spit out, and he choked on it like peanut butter sticking in his throat. When Elsa pressed the cloth harder against his sore cheekbone, Hans hissed, but bit his tongue.

"Fine, then– don't tell me," she said with an annoyed sigh. "I have a first aid kit in my bathroom. Give me a minute and I'll bandage you up."

As soon as the hand with the towel moved away from his face, Hans reached up and grabbed it in his own, wrapping his calloused fingers around her clothed digits. Elsa's breath hitched in her throat and she froze, staring at their conjoined hands with an expression somewhere between fear and curiosity.

Hans inhaled sharply, holding the breath in his lungs for only a second before realizing that he couldn't find the words right now if he tried. Rather, he decided to let his actions speak for him; reaching into the inner breast pocket of his coat with his other hand, Hans pulled out the stack of envelopes he had been carrying around for the better part of a month and slapped them on the table. Elsa jumped at the sound.

It took her a moment to recognize the rubber-banded bundle of letters that sat before her on the table, and her wide eyes shot back up to Hans's face in disbelief.

"Are those…"

"Yes."

"I thought that you said that the deal was off?"

"The deal _is_ off," Hans affirmed, his eyes trailing to the stack of envelopes before him. He tapped his fingertips on top of the pile. "This is just… because. It's the right thing to do."

Elsa let out an incredulous laugh. "Isn't it a bit late to start doing the right thing now?"

"I like to believe that it's never too late," Hans mused, tapping the letters once more for good measure. His eyes, suddenly lucid, flicked back to Elsa's. "I'm _not_ a bad guy, Elsa. I didn't mean to hurt your sister. I was only looking out for myself, and I won't be sorry for that, but I _am_ sorry that she got hurt. She deserved better. Much better. And she got it, while I got the shit end of the stick. If that's not karma at work, then I don't know what is."

In an instant, Elsa's bemused expression melted away to reveal a hidden anguish, one that Hans was sure that she saved for herself and never showed to anyone else. The sight of it caused Hans's heavy heart to beat a little faster.

"If you're not a 'bad guy,' as you claim, then _why_ did you do it?" she near-whispered. " _Why_ my sister? It was bad enough that you didn't love her, but to mooch off of her and _cheat_ on her all of the time–"

An anger bubbled up within Hans and he inadvertently squeezed Elsa's hand tighter at hearing her accusations; he only realized it when she winced and pulled back an inch.

" _Hold on a second_. I may not have loved your sister, but I _never_ cheated on her." He released her hand and Elsa took the opportunity to move away from him, walking towards the sink to dispose of the bloodied towel and bracing herself against it, her back to him.

"I was a loyal, doting fiance, and I would have been a loyal, doting husband. She'd have had the perfect 'fairy tale' relationship that she'd always wanted, and I would've had financial security in return. I may have done some shady things, but cheating on Anna was something that I'd _never_ do, and never did. I wouldn't even dream of it."

Elsa bit her lower lip at hearing his defense, continuing to stare down into the sink basin; he was so adamant that he wasn't a cheater, that she felt compelled to believe him. Actually, she felt compelled to believe a _lot_ of things about Hans that she shouldn't have, but none of it really seemed "wrong" to her anymore.

"But you didn't love Anna," she countered. "It wouldn't have been fair to her."

"Is _this_ not fair to you, then?"

Before Elsa could register what was happening, Hans was behind her with a hand on her ribs, gently spinning her around to face him. His head dipped down to touch his lips to hers, surprising her with a kiss that was both chaste and passionate; her first kiss.

His mouth moved against her own in tender ministrations, electrifying her nerves until she felt their connection all the way to her toes, making her dizzy; he tasted sweet and malty, like raw sugar cane, and Elsa had to grip the edge of the counter behind her to stay upright, assisted only by Hans's hot palms sliding up her spine. When she managed to break away, turning her head aside, her breaths were coming in short bursts.

 _Why can I never control myself with him?_

"I can't," she breathed.

"Why not?" He had sobered up considerably since he had first arrived to Elsa's townhouse, but his voice was lusty, full of longing, and Elsa felt her womb pulse at the sound.

"You know why." She swallowed thickly. "I'm not… I'm not my normal self when I'm around you."

"Your 'normal' self?" Hans retorted, lifting an eyebrow at her. "You mean, the one who wears gloves to avoid touching things directly and refuses to eat food cooked by other people?"

Elsa's gaze dropped to the floor. "Yeah. That one."

Hans reached up and placed a knuckle directly beneath her chin, tilting Elsa's face up to his and forcing her to look at him.

"Is that such a bad thing?"

His voice was soft, but Elsa's was even softer when she managed to reply, her blue eyes scanning his greens for any sign of trickery or deceit: "I'm not sure."

His lips crashed against hers once again– needily this time– and Elsa found that she was matching his increasing fervor with her own. Her gloved fists clenched in the lapels of his coat, desperate for more of him, wanting to bridge the space between them, and Hans obliged by nudging her legs apart with his knee. He stepped in between, rooting his foot between her slippers, and pressed his knee against her center, causing Elsa to gasp into the kiss as a bolt of pleasure arrowed through her at the friction; Hans took the opportunity to slide his tongue between her parted lips, into her mouth. Although it was slimy and foreign and full of _bacteria_ , Elsa's mind was lost to the haze of desire caused by the sensation of his tongue dancing inside the moist cavern of her mouth, and she fought back with her own tongue, gasping as she involuntarily bucked against his knee. She craved _more,_ and she craved it with Hans.

As if he could read her mind, Hans lifted her up, hoisting her slender legs around his waist, and carried her out of the kitchen, through the living room, up the stairs and to her room. Somewhere along the way, she managed to kick off her slippers.

He laid her carefully on the bed before making quick work of his coat and shirt, throwing each to the floor with abandon. Elsa only had a moment to appreciate the muscles of his torso in the faint strip of light coming from the bathroom before he was on top of her and kissing her again, palming her breasts through the thin knit material of her dress and the satiny bra beneath, causing the trickle of wetness between her legs to upgrade to a steady stream.

As much as Elsa wanted him to pleasure her with his mouth again, as he had before, she also found herself curious about the respective part of his own anatomy. If it had felt _that_ fantastic to receive, then it only seemed fair to her that she should be willing to give, as well– to return the favor, so to speak.

Pushing with her palms to indicate her intent, Hans rolled until he was on his back and Elsa was able to climb on top of him, her covered hands flying to the button of his jeans. When it became too difficult to maneuver the tiny metal zipper with the fabric of her gloves getting in the way, Elsa sucked in a breath for courage and pulled them off– one first, and then the other. Hans quietly watched the scene unfold before him in fascination; it was only when the realization of what Elsa was trying to do dawned on him that Hans's eyes widened and he shook his head, sitting up and propping himself on his elbows.

"Elsa, you don't have to do–"

Elsa shushed him, nudging with a bare hand on his sternum to encourage Hans to lay back down on the bed before she lost her nerve. "I _want_ to."

Hans stifled a groan at hearing the sensuality in her voice and leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Elsa to crush her against him in another breathtaking kiss. His fingers found purchase on the hem of her dress, and he broke the kiss only to pull the offending garment up and over her head, tossing it towards the bedroom door, leaving her naked except for a black bra and matching panties. Elsa, in turn, dipped her own slender digits beneath the top of his jeans and boxer briefs and tugged them downward together; Hans lifted his hips to aid her in achieving her goal before falling back to the mattress, his heated body sinking into it as his erect member was exposed to Elsa's inquisitive gaze at last.

She knelt and hovered her face above the pulsing appendage. Hans smelled musky, as he probably hadn't showered since earlier in the day, but the alarm bells in her head remained silent; he consumed her thoughts so much that even her subconscious mind couldn't spare a thought for her germaphobia at a time like this. Either way, it wasn't an unpleasant scent, and Elsa mouth began to water at the prospect of what she was about to do.

Experimentally, she placed a puckered kiss to the crown and flinched when Hans's cock jerked in response. She brought a hand up and cautiously wrapped her pale, slender fingers around the base to hold it steady; it was warm from the blood that filled it, and felt firm yet soft beneath her touch, like velvet laid over marble.

When she trailed her tongue around the head, wetting it, she sensed the way Hans trembled beneath her and it egged her on; in one swift movement, she took all of him into her mouth, until he hit the back of her throat and she gagged, causing Hans to pull her head back up considerately by her hair.

"Easy," he cooed.

Elsa met his eyes briefly and nodded that she understood. Swallowing, she took him into her mouth again, carefully, guided by Hans's hand on the back of her head to help her find her rhythm. Within minutes she was bobbing up and down at a steady pace, lathing Hans's cock with her tongue and lips, feeling him grow harder and harder with each pant that she drew out of him. Trails of saliva leaked from the corners of her mouth, slathering his shaft in shiny wet as she sped up, his member twitching with escalating frequency.

"Elsa," Hans choked out suddenly, his voice strained; she raised her head to see him reaching out to her. "Come here."

Letting the moistened tip leave the vice of her swollen lips with a _pop,_ Elsa wiped her mouth with the back of a hand and crawled forward up Hans's body, allowing herself to be steered by his hands until she was straddling him, his erection straining against her covered sex. His fingers pushed the sateen material of her panties aside without removing them, revealing her arousal.

"If you're ready," Hans assured her breathlessly, but Elsa didn't need any further assurance; the ache between her legs was assurance enough.

Aided by the slickness of her own saliva, Elsa slowly guided Hans into herself. There was noticeably more friction this time; without the aid of the smoothness of a condom, she could feel every bump and ridge of his cock as he entered her, as though he was made to fit her perfectly. She tensed, her muscles molding around him, and relished the feeling of being wholly, physically _complete_ for the first time in her life.

" _Fuck,_ " Hans hissed once he was inside of her to the hilt, tossing his head back; Elsa nearly cursed as well, but she bit down on her lip instead.

Tentatively, she lifted herself up before sinking down on his hard length once more, allowing a wanton moan to slip from the back of her throat. It felt _good_ to have Hans inside of her, filling her– better than she could have ever anticipated. She damned herself for holding back for so long.

 _If I had only known what I was missing..._

One of Hans's hands planted itself on Elsa's hip, his fingernails digging into the sweat-slicked flesh there, while the other slid up her back, bringing her forward and flush against his chest. Face-to-face, Hans kissed her as he took over, thrusting slowly to allow Elsa to get used to the sensation; she mewled into his mouth and felt the way his body responded to the sound, as his hips jerked and drove up harder into her. Within moments, Elsa was losing herself in the heady kiss while Hans lost all self-control– his judgement clouded by lust for angelic woman swaying above him– and he impaled her over and over, causing her to keen as the repeated friction created an unbearable pressure within her abdomen.

Her inner walls tightened around his hardness as he rammed into her without mercy and Elsa knew that she was close to the edge, but she couldn't verbalize it; she squeezed her eyes shut and cried out when she exploded at last, burying her face in the crook of Hans's neck as contractions forcefully racked her petite body, washing her in pure bliss. Hans was her anchor through it all, and so she held onto him for dear life, her nails leaving angry crescent moons in the malleable skin of his upper arms.

Hans followed shortly after, pumping with a few rough, final thrusts before flipping them over; he pulled out of Elsa with a grunt and spent himself on her inner thigh. As she came down from her high, gradually regaining her bearings, she grimaced at the tickle of his essence as it dripped down her leg, but Hans was already two steps ahead of her; before she even realized that he had left the bed, he returned from the bathroom with a fresh bath towel and used it to wipe Elsa clean, taking extra care to pat around her sore and ravaged flesh. She tried to say something to him, but a heavy fatigue quickly overtook her; the last thing she remembered was strong hands tucking her beneath the duvet before darkness fell.


	13. Chapter 13

_My haunted lungs  
Ghost in the sheets  
I know if I'm haunting you_

 _You must be haunting me_

" _Haunted," Beyoncé_

–

A nauseating smell, like sweat and something else, permeated Elsa's senses before she was fully awake. It filled her nostrils as her remaining senses came to; the sheets around her body felt damp, and the skin of her inner thighs felt simultaneously sticky and tight from the substances that had dried on them.

It took the dazed young woman another minute to open her eyes to see that she was still in her bra and underwear; the tiniest hint of gray dawn light peaked in through her bedroom window, and, glancing at the clock on her bedside table, she visibly winced upon realizing that it was already after six in the morning.

All at once, visions of the previous night came rushing to the forefront of her mind, and Elsa reeled from what she remembered.

She had done it; she had finally had sex with Hans.

Yet, he was nowhere to be found. The bed beside her was empty, and his clothes were missing from her bedroom floor. The bathroom door was ajar, the lights left on, but no one was inside.

Elsa fought the bile that surged in her throat at the revelation, clutching a hand to her stomach to try to ease the butterflies that flitted there. Half-awake, she pushed the dirty comforter off of herself and rushed to the bathroom, desperate to scrub the lingering remnants of intercourse with her sister's ex-fiance from her flesh before her body purged it another way. She didn't even bother to wait for the water to turn hot before jumping into the shower, lingerie and all.

She stayed in the shower a little longer than usual before emerging at a quarter to eight, wrapping herself in her house robe and retrieving her slippers before making her way downstairs. She felt incredibly sore, but not as sore as she expected, each step jolting her and reminding her of what she had done.

She entered the kitchen to see everything still as it had been when she had left it the night before: the untouched water glass in front of the chair that Hans had been sitting in; the bundle of envelopes on the table; the bloodied cloth in the sink. She picked up her phone from where she had left it on the counter and wasn't surprised to see that Hans hadn't left her a message or otherwise made any sort of attempt to contact her. Despite herself, her heart sank at his callousness. He hadn't even bothered to leave a note.

With a deflated sigh, she set the device back down. Perhaps he was feeling just as shell shocked by their evening together as she was– or maybe he had already committed to forgetting the encounter had ever occurred. Which, she figured, she should too.

Hans had succeeded in getting what he had wanted after all. But, Elsa supposed as she ran a bare hand over the letters yet to be opened, she had gotten what she had wanted as well.

Or had she?

She wrung her fingers together, pondering whether or not she should attempt to call Hans or send him a text message, but ultimately decided against it. She didn't have the time nor energy to dwell on the fact that she had been passionately deflowered at last by Hans Westergaard, quite possibly the most hated and charismatic man in Manhattan; she was due at Anna and Kristoff's home before dinnertime, and she had a long drive ahead of her. Ruminating on the surrealness of her time with Hans would only hold her back from her real life.

–

Most of the roads to Cape Cod were treacherously icy from a recent winter storm that had ravaged New England and most of the East Coast, and so Elsa took it slow, leaving her alone with plenty of time to think.

To Elsa, being left with nothing to distract her from her thoughts was like living a nightmare. That's why she had always gone above and beyond in her work, committing to her role as CEO with such dedication and determination; anything to wholly occupy her mind during her waking hours. She tried her damnedest to focus instead on driving and the beauty of the snow-covered scenery as it floated past, but the occasional thought of Hans still managed to sneak in here and there, causing the soreness at the apex of her thighs to throb.

Having been unable to deal with the aftermath of their lovemaking before leaving, Elsa had called a local launderer to pick up her soiled bedding before swiftly packing her overnight bag and heading out of the door and into her white Lincoln SUV. Anna and Kristoff had invited her to stay for the weekend earlier in the week, before Anna and Kristoff headed back to New York City full-time in anticipation of both the trial against Hans and Baby Bjorgman's arrival. Elsa could hardly believe the time had come already. Yet, Anna was due any day now, and the fact that her due date nearly coincided with the court date seemed like a cruel twist of fate.

Elsa arrived at the Cape estate without much fanfare, the snow and ice crunching beneath her tires as she pulled up the drive. Kristoff was outside almost immediately to help her with her bag, while Anna watched from the window, shivering for dramatic effect; she had always been sensitive to the cold, but it had never bothered Elsa much.

"You came!" Anna shouted gleefully as soon as Elsa was over the threshold, throwing her arm as around her older sibling in a welcoming hug.

"I said that I would," Elsa laughed, brushing the snow off of the arms of her winter coat with a flat, gloved palm. The smell of a savory, home-cooked meal wafted to Elsa's nostrils then and her stomach growled in response; it occurred to her that she hadn't eaten since the previous evening and was feeling absolutely famished. More so than usual.

Anna seemed to take notice of Elsa's present state.

"Kristoff's been cooking all day," she half-boasted, half-informed her sister, leaning in close. "He's such an _amazing_ cook. Who would've known?"

Elsa had dined over at Anna and Kristoff's a few times before, but Anna had always been the one to prepare the meals; the younger Arendelle knew that it was a risk to attempt to have her older sister eat food that had been made by anyone else, so having Kristoff prepare dinner was taking a huge step; one that Elsa was surprised to feel that she was ready for.

"It smells great," Elsa assured her. She smiled for good measure, and Anna smiled back, offering her arm to her sister as they made their way to the dining room together.

–

"Kristoff, that was delicious. Anna wasn't kidding about you being a great cook."

Kristoff's meal of roasted potatoes, stewed carrots, and beef brisket left Elsa feeling sated and warm; it had been even more delicious than it had smelled, and Elsa's usual bird-like appetite had swelled to epic Anna-rific proportions, causing her to eat more than usual. She assumed it was because of the previous night's activities with Hans, and she felt the blush that graced her cheeks at the memory; she hoped that it could be attributed to the warmth of the room.

"Maybe someday we'll be eating dinner at _your_ house with you and your husband," Anna teased between spoonfuls of potatoes as Kristoff began clearing the table.

"Or wife," she added as an afterthought with a shrug.

Elsa shook her head. "Or maybe it'll just be me and my ten cats."

"But you hate animals."

"It was a joke." She set her fork down in her empty plate with a sigh; Kristoff added it to the stack he was already balancing in the crook of his elbow before disappearing into the kitchen. "Speaking of cats, where's Olaf hiding?"

Anna rolled her eyes and threw her hand up with a flick of her wrist. "Who knows. He's been such a brat ever since we started work in the nursery."

As soon as the words left her lips, she clapped a hand over her mouth, as though she had just inadvertently spilled some deep, dark secret– which, Elsa supposed, she had.

"You're planning on living here full-time?" the elder Arendelle asked; it was the first she had heard of any plans for the budding Bjorgman family to move to the Cape estate permanently.

Anna offered her sister a sheepish expression. "I'm sorry, Elsa. I should have consulted with you first."

Elsa forced a smile on her own face, waving off her concern with a royal blue glove. "Don't worry about it. I think it's great."

The pained sensation in Elsa's chest conflicted with her words; her last living relative was moving away. Her only sister and only companion.

Elsa would really end up all alone in New York after all.

Her anguish must have been plastered across her face, because after a terse moment of strained silence between them as the severity of Anna's confession sank in, Anna spoke first.

"Elsa, can I ask you something?"

The blonde-haired sister ticked her head upward, her attention piqued, but felt her blood run cold at the gravity of such a question. "Yes, of course."

"We're sisters, right?"

Elsa snorted. "That's what you wanted to ask me?"

"Yes– I mean, no." Anna wrung her hands anxiously in front of herself– a habit that was typically Elsa's. "But if something was wrong– if you were… _dealing_ with something… you'd tell me?"

Elsa's heart nearly froze in her chest. Perhaps it was simply paranoia, but for the briefest moment she worried that Anna knew about her and Hans. It made her ill almost immediately.

"You know that I would," she forced out at last, wondering just how much Anna knew, if she knew anything. "Why do you ask?"

Anna shrugged. "I can tell that you've been struggling with something lately. I don't know if it's just the pressures of being CEO, or the court case stuff, or something else entirely, but I'm worried. I don't want you to shut yourself away from the world again. Away from _me_. I don't think I could handle it if you did."

Tears sparkled in Anna's eyes and the sight wrenched at Elsa's own heartstrings; she felt lower than low. How could she have so blatantly betrayed her sister– the person she loved more than anyone or anything in the world– by fooling around with Hans and his game of seduction?

When she reached across the distance between their chairs and pulled her younger sister in for a hug, she hoped that the guilt on her face wasn't evident.

"I'm so sorry, Anna," she choked out, not realizing that she was crying as well until she felt the dampness of salty tears on her own cheeks. "I'm so sorry."

"Sorry for what?" Anna sniffled with a laugh, pulling away. "I just want to make sure that you're okay."

Elsa straightened up and dabbed at her eyes. "I'm fine. Everything is… fine."

"Are you sure? I don't think I've seen you cry about anything since Mama and Papa. It must be serious."

"You're right. It is serious." Elsa inhaled a shaky breath. "But I'm afraid that if I tell you, you'll hate me."

"Oh, Elsa. There's nothing that you could ever do that could make me hate you." Anna reached across the table to clasp Elsa's hand in her own. "You're my sister. I love you."

"I love you, too," Elsa sniffed. "But whatever it was, it's over now. So I don't want you to worry about it. Okay?"

"Okay." Anna squeezed her hand for good measure. "I just want you to be happy."

Elsa's lips cracked into a sad smile that caused the corners of her wet eyes to crinkle. "I am."

"Promise?"

She let out a breathy laugh. "I promise."

Anna smiled back. "So, do you want to see it? The nursery, I mean."

"I'd love to."

–

Kristoff and Anna stayed in the seaside master suite, so Elsa was content to take the guest bedroom on the upper floor. It was a plain room, with clean white linens and a window overlooking the starry sky and beach below. She considered a late night walk on the beach before bed, but ultimately decided against it; despite the cold, which Elsa found bearable, it was the strong winds that would make a winter stroll miserable.

She dressed for bed uneventfully, changing from her day clothes into the sleeping gown she had packed in her overnight bag; it was made of pale blue silk and felt much better than the stiff and soiled undergarments that she had slept in the previous evening.

Elsa clutched a hand to her abdomen at remembering the previous night with Hans. It could never happen again, that much she knew for certain; it should have never happened in the first place.

Yet, she couldn't find it in herself to regret it altogether. The experience, although awkward and inappropriate, had been one of the most exhilarating of her lackluster life. Reminiscing about Hans's hands and lips on her body gripping and biting and grazing her skin, his hard length pumping in and out of her tight heat until she was brought to explosive orgasm, caused a fire to light in her center, riling her up until she was fully aroused and wanting more.

But she could never have more.

She'd have to file her experience with Hans away as another finished chapter in her mess of a life. She'd forget about him and move forward with her uneventful existence as she had always intended. She was never one to make waves, and she wasn't keen on doing so. Especially not when the stakes were so high.

With a exhausted sigh, Elsa pulled back the covers and slipped beneath them, reveling in the fresh scent of detergent (and not post-sex funk) that filled her nostrils.

No sooner had she settled in to sleep than her phone lit up from its resting place on the bedside table, washing the wall beside the bed in bluish light. Curious, Elsa rolled over to reach for the device, picking it up only to see Hans's name splayed across the screen with a simple message:

 _Can I see you again?_

–

 _A/N: To all of my readers, I am deeply sorry for my prolonged absence. Last year was a rough ride for me from start to finish. The professional, romantic, and familial aspects of my life all broke down (almost simultaneously) and I was in a very dark place for a very long time. I was unemployed for most of the year, didn't speak to my family because of a bad situation, and my relationship of four years fell apart. It took a lot of effort and time and willpower on my part to restructure my life to be able to move forward on my own and continue in a new career. I am happy to say that I am doing better now and plan on updating at least one fic per month with at least one chapter at a time._

 _Thank you for understanding, and as always reviews are so very much appreciated._


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